Gods and Gardens
by altol
Summary: Love and destiny. Betrayal and fate. Every legend has a beginning. Every story must have an end.
1. Dreaming Apart

**Gods and Gardens**

**Author's Notes**: _Hello and welcome to the sequel to Fire and Ice. If you haven't read it, I suggest you take a look around, as many of the characters (dead and alive) and situations will make little sense otherwise. _

_I wanted to thank you all for your wonderful comments and suggestions on Fire and Ice, they've all been wonderful and much appreciated. Just to warn you all, I'm currently working on three other novels (whose ideas DON'T belong to Squaresoft, and therefore, have a chance of being published,) so this story will be updated when I have time. _

_This story began when I was lounging around, idly watching a friend play FFVII. I remember cocking my head, taking a closer look at Cloud and going 'hm'. That stupid plot bunny morphed into a plot dragon, and voila! This story._

_Don't you ever wonder what the beach was supposed to mean in the beginning of FFVIII? _**I did. **_By the way, the letters from Rinoa in future chapters have a progressive point in the story. Don't think of them as written 'in the present'- they're from all over- think of them as a collection of letters scattered in a dusty trunk. They have a point, trust me. You'll see._

**_Addition_**_: Rinoa's letters, to begin with, are not written in the present. Think of them as letters piled in a battered shoebox, dusty and laced with an old silk ribbon. They'll be chronologically relevant later, but they aren't really now. They'll help to develop things later on. Writing this story has forced me to use Rinoa's character rather than dismiss her (as is my first instinct.) I still don't like Rinoa, sorry, but I'm trying to understand her._

**Warning**: This is a sequel to Fire and Ice, a sequel I didn't plan to do and probably wouldn't have done, were it not for the surprising amount of people who asked and the endless pacing of the characters in my head, lurking in the corners of my skull. It is a twisted version of a FFVII crossover. If you don't like crossovers, don't read it. I'll probably bastardize both worlds- you'll just have to forgive as you read.

Disclaimer: Didn't own them last time, and I don't own them now.

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_…_

_…_

_Every year, they go to the ocean. _

_It is almost as if they can't help it…it is a force of ether and eternity that pulls them to the shores. They put their feet in the cold lips of the water, and watch the waves roll in, their flesh numb to all but the pull of the tide. _

_They stare at the water, and they try to forget._

_They try to remember…_

**………….**

**Gods and Gardens. **

Love and destiny. Betrayal and fate. Every legend has a beginning. Every story must have an end.

…….

….

..

_It is always the same…just her and the shapeless dark._

_She is always tired, restless, but it doesn't matter which way she moves. There is dark in every direction- aimless, bottomless dark. She does not know how she knows this…but it is a certainty as simple as breathing and blue skies. She seems to know the darkness as well as it knows her- she recognizes the hopelessness from the beginning and it recognizes itself in her. She wears it like a second skin…she greets it like an old friend. _

_But it is no friend._

_She always starts out calm, but quickly grows restless. She wants to get out. She wants to move, to see light, to see a filament of movement, a shred of sound, but there is only black, and the sucking gasp of someone trying to catch their breath. Is it hers? Nothing seems to belong to her here._

_Somewhere, beyond the dark veil, she knows that people are moving, laughing, bathing in light, and she hates them for it. How could they have forgotten her? How could they not hear her? How could they not come for her? _

_Sometimes she screams for help, but her screams are useless, a high echo that that eventually trails off into nothing. There is no one else there, just her and the dark, and the dark does not answer. Her thoughts scramble around in her head, roll and knock from side to side, but they are aimless thoughts, stupid, desperate, and they never focus on anything useful, no shred of memory, no happy thing. There is only the hunger- the hunger for light, for sight, for sound. Her mind is chaos- she can not settle it to extract anything useful._

_She can not remember air, or light, or the soft touch of another breathing thing...but she knows these things are there. She knows they exist. She cannot remember laughter- the laughter in her mind sounds cold…frantic…manic. There is only the hollowness of her own touch, her hand on her skin, and the circle of her flesh on her flesh is cold and incomplete._

_Sometimes she moves around, disoriented. Lunging from side to side, running- it doesn't matter. She never goes anywhere- never feels the satisfaction of an incline or the hopeful surface of a wall. The darkness has no shape, or direction, no floors or ceilings. The darkness has no end._

_Next comes the pain. _

_She tears at herself, mimicking the ravages of her troubled mind, tearing at her skin and pinching at her flesh. The pain is **something**. It is not the dark or the desperate echo of her voice. It is real, a hint of life, and her only regret is that there is no one else down there to feel it with her. She wants someone else there- someone else to tear, she wants to listen to their screams and drink their pain and to share the despair of her imprisonment, she wants them all to feel it, everyone that ungratefully walks outside in the sun and smiles and breathes air, she wants to hurt them, taste the air on their skin and the light in their eyes and break them apart like a ripe fruit, and drink up all the sweet syrup inside of them- the life that she is denied-but there is no one down here and no one is coming and she is alone and it is so dark and so silent and so still and everything in her is squirming and screaming and struggling-she wants to tear a hole in herself and crawl through it, crawl out of it-_

_Opening her mouth, she breaths in the dark and the dark breaths in her and she screams, and screams, and screams-_

**_GET ME OUT!!!!!!!! GET ME OUT!!!!_**

"Get me out!"

Quistis Trepe shot up in her bed, gasping for breath, her sheets balled in her fists as her body twisted into an arch off the mattress. It always took her a moment to orient herself in the dark, to feel the bed beneath her and the dogs' warmth on her feet, to differentiate the dark of her waking room and the dark of her dream. Her hair was plastered to her feet with sweat, and she felt the familiar sting on her skin where she had scratched herself. There would be marks in the morning. Reaching over, she shakily snapped on the bedroom lamp, letting the sting of the bulb's light fill her vision like an old, welcome friend. She held out her hand, staring down at the angry crescents that her nails had carved into her palms. She drew a breath as she rolled onto her back, and stared at the lamp until the light stung her eyes.

_Light, light, light….light and breath and sound and warmth…_

The sound of the ocean was a whisper outside her window, and the familiar creakings of the old house were soothing like old lullabies. She dragged her bare feet across the mattress, feeling the difference in temperature where she had lain. Downstairs, she could hear the screen door banging in the wind. Yet another thing about the house that needed to be fixed.

Quistis spread her palm to the empty side of the bed, closing her eyes against the coolness of the sheets. On occasion, there was another form that slumbered there…but he was away. When he got back, his side of the bed would be filled with warmth and skin and the soft rumble of his breath as he slept.

She sighed, both wishing he was there now and relieved that he was gone. Had he been there, she thought, he would have wrapped his arm around her.

Had he been there, he would have asked about the dream…and she had no ready answers.

It was a dream and not a dream- a terror that seemed to radiate from the core of her bones outward.

_"Woof." _

It was a soft sound, almost a question.

Cerberus, a mix between a Doberman and a Clydesdale, looked up from the end of the bed, his tail thumping against the mattress. The sound of the tail thwaking the mattress in turn woke Styx, an almost equally large mutt and the unplanned offspring of both Cerberus and Rinoa's dog, Angelo. Although Styx had inherited Angelo's pretty coloring, he had definitely inherited his father's size, and she barely fit on the bed with both of them on it. They had taken advantage of her missing bedmate, as they always did in his absence, sneaking onto the mattress with surprising stealth for 150lb creatures. Still, their presence was comforting- living, breathing things with their soft, dark eyes shining at her from the edge of the bed, a contrast from the piercing solitude of the dream.

Wiping her hair back from her forehead, she tried to unstick the nightgown from her skin before giving up and pulling the soaked garment over her head, leaving her in nothing but a pair of black bikini briefs. She fell back against the mattress, spreading her arms across the mattress. The air from the open window chilled her skin instantly, and she was glad for the sensation, so different was it from the numbness of her dream. Her palms stung, and she raised her hands, admiring the half-moon indentations she'd left by balling her fists in the dream. The skin on her right hand had been broken, and thin pools of blood filled the crescents. She pressed her bloody hand to her heart, trying to calm its fluttering.

_Just a nightmare._

_And yet, normally her nightmares were filled with screams and sorceresses, bloody soldiers and solid tanks._

_Not…_**nothing**_._

Still orienting herself, she moved to the middle of the large mattress and patted the empty spots next to her. Cerberus willingly obliged, crawling up and settling his heavy weight along her side. Styx followed, curling against her back, his puppy fur soft against her skin. After a moment, the large mongrels resumed their snores, untroubled by nightmares. Still breathing hard, and a little shaky, she settled her cheek on top of Cerberus' massive shoulder, winding her arm around him and listening to the solid rushing of his heart, steady and swishing like an ocean current. Eventually, the sound and the warmth of the dogs lulled her to sleep.

She left the light on.

*

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…

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_Galbadia__ City__…6am._

The rain was pouring in sheets off the Galbadian rooftops, thundering onto the pavement below in thick, drenching sheets. Steam rose from the sidewalks, coating the concrete in a hanging mist that seemed to absorb all other sounds.

Most of local residents had taken shelter in their homes, leaving the streets devoid of motion and voices. However, one hooded figure slouched against an alley wall under a metal sheet overhang, peering into the empty, rain-splattered streets and tapping his foot against the ground impatiently. A cigarette burned from beneath the hood, the smoke wisps dampered by the rain.

A sudden crackle of static from the phone on his waist broke the silence. Taking a long drag from the cigarette, he exhaled and glanced down as the phone light flickered to life.

He reached down, flipping open his phone and holding it up to his ear. "Yeah, what is it."

"The pizza you ordered is ready."

"Then deliver it."

The tone of the voice changed. "Base to Deep Blue. Affirm secure line."

"Line is secured. Go ahead."

"Identify."

"Id. 0168575."

"Id confirmed, Dirk Strife. Report."

From the shadows of the hood, a pair of light brown eyes flickered up to the building in front of him. A small smile. "Wasting secure airtime to talk to me? People will say we're in love."

He could practically feel the young woman's scowl on the other end of the line, a mixture of frustration and tangible dislike knitting her brows together. "Mission status," she replied flatly.

He sighed. So much for love. "Nine other pizzas have been delivered."

"Nine pizzas confirmed. You're needed back immediately. Complete mission, report, and return to the restaurant…and _try_ to be a little more professional, would you? I'm running a pizza parlor, not a daycare."

"Roger that…honey." The line cut out, and he chuckled, thinking of Headmaster Chang fuming at the other end of the line.

One could only scrub so many sub-levels, after all…although there were also the toilets to think of.

Still smiling, the young man hit another button on the small commsphere. "Brice. How are the pizzas?"

The crackle of static, and then a clear line. "All pizzas have been delivered. We're waiting at the restaurant, sir."

"Notify Sirri and the others and get back to the car by eleven hundred hours. And Brice?" Strife glanced back into the alley.

"Yes, sir?"

"Quit calling me sir. It's fucking weird as hell."

"Yes, sir. I mean, uh…yes, erm..." The conversation terminated, and the man slipped the comlink back into a pocket of his coat, shaking his head and settling back to listen to the rain. He took another drag off his cigarette, enjoying the crackle of tobacco and the sweet tang of nicotine rushing in his skull before exhaling underneath the rain slicker. It was a pleasant diversion from the scenery.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned his head to watch a similarly hooded figure hobble up to him, reaching into the deep pockets of its cloak. Something about the stranger disturbed him, and he found his hand reaching for his sword only to remember that it was back on the ship, along with everything else that made him more conspicuous than usual.

But the man, as it turned out, only reached out with a piece of paper, his beady eyes peeking out at him beneath the hood. Handing him the paper, the stranger shuffled back down the alley. Strife narrowed his eyes at him, and glanced down at the leaflet.

The front read simply:

"PLANET." It looked like some religious pile of bullshit intended to make him join some cult, clean up litter, or confess all his sins. Ha. As if anyone had that much time on their hands. He leafed through it…something about generators and the spirit of the something-or-other. Blah-blah-save-your-soul-bullshit.

Crumpling the paper, he tossed it down the alley at a particularly annoying alley cat. The cat hissed at him and retreated behind a series of garbage cans, no doubt plotting revenge.

The man that slouched against the wall was, in fact, not Dirk Strife. Dirk Strife had been killed in the first sorceress war, a drifter with no family whose death had been swept under a rug of lost numbers and names and who now, most likely, was a worm tunnel in an unmarked grave.

Fortunately, what remained of the deceased soldier was a valid id. number and a name, both intact and still active due to a mix-up in paperwork. Apparently, it was all the same to the powers that were if Dirk Strife was alive or dead, and, as it turned out, the man was much more useful alive.

Dirk Strife was now an employee of Balamb Garden, whose official title was listed as SeeD Class A: Operations Management Specialist. Dirk Strife also owned a small seaside cottage, and had a Class A vehicle license. Not bad for a dead man.

The man that wore his name was no more Dirk Strife than the unwary patrons that passed him on the street. When someone said his name, there was a fraction of delay before he could recognize the name as his, and turn to respond. There were only a few people that still bothered to call him by his real name, and when they did, it was sharp…odd…and never in public. His other name was as lost as the young man whose name he stole.

After all, according to a Galbadian accident report, Seifer Almasy no longer existed, either.

The man that once went by the name had a small memorial in Trabia amongst the scattered parts of the old Galbadian Garden wreckage, and a tombstone on an island near an orphanage, neither of which contained a corpse.

Seifer Almasy was legally dead, a memory laced with valor and betrayal, depending on which war one wanted to remember.

The man in the alley, then, for all intents and purposes, was a dead man carrying a dead man's name and, by all accounts, was neither.

He ground out his cigarette beneath his boot before pulling his hood further over his head, checking his watch, and rolling his eyes at the rooftops. His hair was a little longer now, and in need of cutting. For the purposes of a semi-public mission, his hair was also temporarily black, his eyes a non-descript shade of brown.

Ah, the wonders of Cloaking-mag, the much-appreciated gift of one now Senior Tech Advisor, Ceres Morlysius.

Yawning, he tipped his head back towards the sky, allowing the rain to splatter against his forehead, fringed by dark bangs and the elastic plaster that covered his tell-tale scar. Reawakened by the cold droplets pelting his forehead, he shook himself and focused again on his objective, which had yet to arrive.

After a few minutes of resisting, he settled back into the inevitable, and let his mind off the leash to wander through old memories and stray thoughts. He thought about the maintenance that still had to be done on his house- the screen door, the plumbing, the porch swing... He thought about all the reports that had to be filed when he got back, shuddering at the thought of paperwork. Most likely, he'd make Brice do it. Hell, that kid would have an underwater tea party commissioned if he ordered it. Brice practically hero-worshipped Dirk Strife.

He wondered what he would have thought of Seifer Almasy.

He hated waiting. There was too much time to think. Left to his own devices, he thought about about things he shouldn't. Things out of reach. Things like Fujin. He thought about her soldier's grave, and the fact that she would be almost twenty four by now. He thought about Rajin, back in Balamb, working on a fishing ship, living in a boatshed in his backyard, and trying to forget Fujin, too...or maybe just trying to live in a way that honored her. He thought about Cid Kramer, dead years now, and Edea, trying to keep order to a new houseful of messed-up kids.

Mostly, though, he thought about _her_. If he was honest with himself, he missed her, always did, when he was gone. He also missed sleeping in a bed with pillows that didn't resemble marshmallows, in a room that didn't have seven different kinds of foreign body fluids splattered on the walls.

_A bed with her in it._

He thought about the way she smelled- warm, (raspberries, leather, and coffee) the way she tasted-her body, soft planes of skin and muscle that jumped and warmed and curled beneath his fingers. He thought about the soft edges of her interior, masked by the hard lines of the soldier…the scars that ran the length of her arms and the way her toes curled when he kissed her behind her right ear. He thought about her, and how impossible it was that they were together, and how fragile it all seemed when he stepped back to examine it.

_Yeah. He missed her. Damn._

He stared at the sky again, exhaling loudly and staring up at the rain, forcing the thoughts out of his mind. All he needed was to have a 'problem' in the alleyway. Although public indecency was something he was sure was on Seifer Almasy's record, Dirk Strife had a record like a virgin's underwear drawer, and if he didn't want Xu to kill him, it had to stay that way.

What seemed like eons ago, he had been staring at the white ceiling of nameless hotel amidst roaches and discarded bottles of vodka, the ceiling rolling above him and thoughts of any future a thousand miles away.

The man that existed all those years seemed distant, gone but not forgotten. Never forgotten.

The man that stood in the alleyway now was the product of degradation, humiliation, and several incidences that should have killed him. He was also the leader of the White SeeD, owned a (rapidly improving) shack on the ocean, and had a woman waiting for him there that didn't get paid to wait there by the hour.

There were times that he had difficulty reconciling with reality.

He would much rather have been wedged in a mercenary's cot with the woman currently plaguing his mind instead of out in the pouring rain and doing surveillance on the new members of the Galbadian cabinet. However, Xu Chang, newly appointed Headmaster of Balamb Garden, wanted all local governments preened before being completely settled into office. The rest of his team was fanned out across Galbadia, each tracking a different member of the senate. After two solid weeks of watching politicians bumble around a city he didn't particularly like, conducting political agendas that bored him to death, he was looking forward to heading back to Garden- to a warm bed, warm meals, and a familiar warm body.

The process was entirely illegal, but then, that was exactly why Xu had appointed him to do it. He didn't go on many missions, but the ones he did go on were few, classified, and officially never happened. Furthermore, he often went alone. This was one of the first times he'd had a crew along- Xu had finally given Class A security clearance, SeeD status, and sufficiently sharpened the claws of three young soldiers to join up. These people would make up his 'team', should he need support. All in all, he found that he preferred to work alone, which did not surprise him, but his team was not incompetent.

Seifer Almasy, or rather, Dirk Strife, watched as Senator Kohlen _finally_ left his home and climbed into the chauffeured car that awaited him. All that remained, now that the good senator was gone, was to place a trace on the man's phone and head back. Aside from having a couple of office mistresses and an unnatural obsession with fresh bakery, Senator Kohlen was a boring man. Finances and interest groups checked out, as did the man's non-political appetites. It seemed, for once, that the Galbadian Government had a chance of being more about politics than corruption.

For now, at least.

He shed his coat and dumped it into a waste bin. As much as he was looking forward to heading back, something about Xu's message seemed ominous. The White SeeD, much like their leader, was not a faction that officially existed. If Xu needed him for something, it was probably illegal, or ran too deep to cover with regular ops teams. Things had been rather peaceful lately, and, as a well-practiced pessimist, Seifer had been waiting for something to turn up. Things were already beginning to boil in Galbadia about an emerging corporation, one that utilized Draw Points as energy fields to create cleaner, cheaper energy. He'd had to dodge several protest rallies on the way there, which suited him fine. The more attention that was concentrated on the protestors, the less that was focused on _him_.

Quistis and the rest of the orphanage gang already had enough media attention to contend with. After the second sorceress wars, they had been celebrities- after all, they had saved the world, and they were orphaned, young, and looked good on the cover of magazines. After the third sorceress war, however, they had an almost cult following. All of them (with the exception of Rinoa) had turned down movie deals, book deals, and Zell had begrudgingly turned down an offer from a noted hot dog manufacturer on Xu's orders.

Having chased fame for most of his life, Seifer now understood why the rest of them balked at it: being a hero only looked glamorous in movies. It was a different thing entirely when you were crawling through sewers and dragging yourself half-conscious through the countryside, running on two hours of sleep and a few bottles of Hi-potion: battling monster after monster and wondering which one of your friends you might lose that day. The fanfare had died down a little after Squall had nearly killed a paparazzi member trying to grab a picture of Rinoa, but there were still pockets of media that hadn't given up getting the exclusive on the 'Heroes'.

As a dead man, Seifer was happily immune to the press, aside from the occasional 'shock' article or an appearance in a battle tactics book.

Checking his watch again, he walked calmly towards the Senator's house, trace in hand and a dark jacket that read "Joe's Plumbing" on the back.

The sooner this was done, the sooner he could go home.

He had only one more stop to make.

………..

_"Energy talks were cut short today as a large group of protestors, gathered outside the Galbadian Capitol building to object to EUgen, an emerging energy corporation that claims to convert Draw Point sources into usable energy. Though the company asserts they have found a sustainable energy source that may be the answer to the current energy crisis, members of this protest group call EUgen an irresponsible, heartless corporation terrorizing the planet…Riot responders had to be called in when one rioter, calling himself the voice of the planet, lit a Molotov cocktail with a fira spell, tossing it into..."_

"Turn that shit off, would you?"

Quistis craned her head around to regard Xu with some amusement. It was hot in the Headmistress' office, and Quistis was resting her ankles up on Cid's old mahogany desk as she filled out yet another pile of paperwork, trying to enjoy the collection of fans that whirred around the room. Really, all they did was circulate a lot of hot air, but it was still better than the stagnant, heavy heat in Kadowaki's office. This particular stack of paperwork was an accident report, the result of two junior classmen, a T-Rexaur, and not enough support magic. She finished her sentence 'broken femur and severe puncture wounds to the gluteul region…' and switched off the television, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"Not in the mood for news today?"

"Just wait. Pretty soon those freaks are going to be on _our_ doorstep, bitching about how our junctioning represents an unlawful rape and pillage of the planet, or some other left-wing bullshit." Xu scowled, fanning herself with a SeeD manual. "I wish Ceres would get that Hyne-damned air conditioner up and running. I feel like I'm sitting in a billion-ton floating sauna."

Quistis smiled and shook her head, reading over her report. Was concussion spelled with two s's, or one? Hm. She stifled a yawn and erased the word completely. Her recent lack of sleep and the early morning drive to Garden was a tiring combination.

"A billion gil weapons system, and we're cooking in it." Xu brushed her hair off of her forehead, crossing her arms as she leaned on the edge of her desk. "By the way, I have a favor to ask of you."

Quistis rolled her eyes, shutting the manila folder and waiting. Xu's 'favors' were never 'favors' exactly, just less abruptly-worded orders. "What is it?"

"You know Kadowaki was supposed to go and negotiate the leasing rights for the Draw Points on the land that EuGen's picked up tomorrow?"

"She mentioned it, yes." Xu's plan was to ask the company for rights to continue using the land, citing Kadowaki's medical research in Mag-infusion as the reason.

"Well, with all the new idiot recruits we've got going half-cocked into the Training Center, she's got her hands full. Besides," Xu continued, flipping open the folder, "I think it will be better to send…a fresh face in."

Quistis rolled her eyes. "In this case, you mean a fresh piece of meat."

Xu was trying to hide her smile. "Watch it, or I'll make **you** scrub the sublevels."

Quistis chuckled. "Isn't that Seifer's job?"

"I can always have him scrub the communal toilets…with his head," replied her friend, taking off her jacket and tossing it across the room.

"How did his mission go?" asked Quistis. "Will they be arriving on schedule?" As capable as she knew he was, nothing dislodged the knot of worry in her stomach until she was certain that he was safely back.

"Without a hitch. The moron continues to amaze me." Xu ran a hand through her short hair, trying to unstick it from her forehead.

"Hm," replied Quistis, shutting her report. There was certainly no love lost between her boyfriend and her best friend. She was getting used to it, however, and usually ignored their squabbles like one would ignore someone else's child throwing a tantrum at the next table in a restaurant…with pained indifference. "When do I leave for EuGen?"

"Tomorrow." Replied Xu, handing her the folder. "It should be relatively simple. I believe you're going to be talking to their new head scientist, actually. The previous head of the company is gone."

She had read about it in the paper- Valentine, or something, a promising scientist that had done extensive research on a genetically distinct bloodline known as the Ancients-blown up in his own lab. "Aren't they going to see right through our excuse? I mean, we're obviously not looking for a low-utility permit. We've been drawing off that point for years. What was it, a Cure-specific site?"

"EuGen's got money than they know what to do with, with all the new energy contracts. They're not going to begrudge us a couple uses a month, not when we could become a potential million gil client once their reactors become available for commercial use. Hell, they've been trying to sell us a non-mobile base generator for nearly a year now." Xu smiled. "Besides, that's why I'm sending you…to _distract_ them from looking at the proposal. The wars may have been years ago, but Hero status still counts for something. All your medals and your rack should have the desired effect on a couple of brains that probably haven't discovered their own dicks yet."

Quistis leafed through the folder, raising an eyebrow. "I _should_ be offended-"

"-but you don't have time. Get your bags packed, and I'll dispatch Selphie and the Ragnarok to drop you off tomorrow morning. Their new company's in the middle of nowhere, although they're developing the area like crazy. They've got to pick up the White SeeD on the coast, anyway. Selphie can drop them off, then swing back to get you. Shouldn't take you more than a day- you can stay as a guest of the company, and be home the next day for breakfast." Xu waved her away absently, before picking up another mission report and fanning herself with it irritably.

_So I'll just miss him. Damn._

Quistis sighed. "All right. But you owe me. I get three vacation days next week, and a decent hotel room. Not the roach motel Zell and I had to stay in last time." She shuddered, remembering the fist-sized insects that had lurked…everywhere. Zell eventually took to throwing them like Frisbees…she had nearly killed him.

"Sold." Xu was now fanning herself with two Seed manuals.

"_And_ Selphie and I can stop and visit Rinoa on the way back."

"Yes, yes, go ahead," muttered Xu, leaning her head back against the headrest of her chair and fanning harder. "Gamble, skinny dip, go nuts, just be back by the afternoon. I have another mission waiting on the Ragnarok then."

"I'll tell Selphie." Said Quistis, sitting up.

"I already paged her. Go down to the office and get yourself a meal and hotel stipend." Leaning over, her friend hit the com button. "Ceres, why in the bloody hell am I not in a Winter Wonderland up here yet?"

There was a scuffle on the other end before Ceres's voice crackled on. "There's a coolant leak in Sector 5. It'll be up and running soon, I promise!" Quistis thought that as appointed Head of Tri-Garden Tech Services, Ceres probably thought she had better things to do than maintenance work, but wisely kept that thought to herself.

"Good." Xu turned off the intercom and laid down on her desk, propping her feet up on Quistis and blowing her hair out of her face in a rare show of dishevelment as she flung an arm over her face. As Headmistress, she was allowed few moments of impropriety, and usually took advantage of those when in the company of her closest friend.

Quistis frowned as she scanned through the brief on EuGen. "Hn. Dr. Hojo, huh?"

Xu sighed under her arm. "Something like that."


	2. Letter 1

_  
Dear Quistis,_

_I wasn't sure which address to send this to, your Garden dorm or the sea shack. I figured at least if I sent it to Garden, I know you'd eventually get it- Hyne knows what the meanie does with HIS mail. Uses it for target practice, probably!_

_Anyway, we're officially off! Squall, me, and about 67 boxes! I'm glad that we decided to take the ship, though, since the Ragnarok was in use already- I think I like that it's taking us awhile to get there. I cant explain it, but maybe I needed to adjust to the shock of moving so far away, gradually- wave by wave. Balamb, in many ways, has become my home more than Timber ever was- I'm going to miss all the little seaside restaurants, visiting Ma Dincht's, and of course, spending time with all of you!_

_Despite my initial enthusiasm (wind in my hair, sea at my ankles, whatever romantic things they say about riding boats), riding a boat for two days is a little boring after awhile. It might be nice to have Selphie with me- she could make up a sister-song to the train song! _

_(Although I'd probably kill her after a half hour for singing it nonstop, the way she used to on the trains....)_

_Below, I've enclosed our new address, and the phone number you can use to call us. We installed a second phone line, so we wont be tying up Edea's phone. I'm going to cut this letter short- the waves are making me realllllllly seasick!_

_-Rinoa_


	3. Missions

..

**Galbadian**** City, Galbadia Garden**

_"Mr. Strife_."

He turned to regard a young woman standing next to him, her tone indicating that she'd been calling his name for quite some time.

_Whoops. He **had** to get used to that name._

The receptionist smiled indulgently. "Mr. Strife. Headmaster Glyphias has been expecting you," she said, leading him into the Headmaster's office, a large room with a high domed ceiling. "If you'll have a seat, he'll be with you shortly."

Seifer acknowledged the girl with an inclination of his head. "Thanks, I'll stand. Been sitting all day."

The girl was tapping her lip with her forefinger, looking thoughtful. "You know, you look an awful lot like that old war hero, Seifer Almasy?"

So it was war _hero_ this time, instead of war criminal. It varied. He put on his most charming smile. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

"Hm. I'll bet. I'll tell him you've arrived, sir." She smiled again, and he recognized the inviting glint in her eyes. He returned the smile, and bowed his head as she left. Pretty, in the vague way all other women were pretty when compared to the one he had waiting at home.

Seifer folded his hands behind his back, taking in the room around him. It was plain, but classically decorated with a mahogany desk and several pictures of the mountains. Soon bored with the room, his eyes drifted across the desk. Several pictures, magazine clippings, all neatly framed, paperweights (did _all_ Headmasters have paperweights?). Seifer's eyes narrowed a fraction as they caught a picture of Quistis on his desk, her shy smile trapped behind a silver frame.

She was wearing a form-fitting dress- a blue silk number that encouraged the imagination, barely within the bounds of propriety, which was probably Selphie's doing. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and curled in windswept wisps against a dark city backdrop. It looked like one of those flyaway photos taken by venders prowling the streets, the kind that seemed to Seifer to be begging to have their noses broken. Serabin didnt look inconvenienced, however; he hunched next to her, arm folded across his chest for her to grasp, looking pleased. He wore a suit that fairly sparkled with medals, and a satisfied smile on his face. When the hell was this taken? Seifer resisted the urge to throw the picture out the window.

_Well, she isnt in Galbadia, _**now**_, is she?_

He tried to content himself with the thought of Quistis at the beach house, naked, waiting for him. The image did not completely prevent him from grinding his teeth.

His eyes continued to drift. A long, silver katanna-like sword hung on the far wall behind Glyphiass desk, adorned with ceremonial ribbons. The blade was smooth, its surface a liquid, shimmering metal that stretched out nearly the length of a grown man. The curvature was flawless, the handle plain. It looked vaguely fammiliar, like one of Masa's works. Not flashy, but unequaled in craftsmanship. If he looked closely, he could see his reflection swimming in the blade.

"Ah, I see you admiring the long sword."

Seifer snapped his head around, turning to regard the source of the voice.

"Rumor is it has roots in the legendary Masamune legend." Glyphias's voice behind him, low and composed. _How the fuck had he snuck up behind him?_

Seifer reached towards the sword, then hesitated. "Do you mind?"

Serabin folded his arms, nodding slightly as he inclined his head in encouragement. "Not at all. Please."

Seifer took the blade from the wall, gripping the handle as he slid the blade through the air. It cut cleanly, clearly- the weight was excellent. He settled the blade back onto the shelf and turned around.

Glyphias was dressed in a dark suit, and his jacket once again spackled with medals. Seifer was reminded of the picture on his desk and had to resist turning back to the sword.

"It's a good sword," said Seifer.

Serabin shrugged. "It's a good conversation piece, at any rate. My study of blades was rather limited during my time at Balamb, I'm afraid."

"You did well enough with the gunblade, from what I remember." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and Seifer wondered if he had gone too far by bringing up old scars. Still, Glyphias _had_ been good. Seifer had the scar on his side to prove it, one of many souvenirs taken from the battle of Galbadian Garden nearly two years ago.

Serabin, thankfully, didn't appear to be offended, and smiled instead, removing his jacket and draping it over his chair. Not for the first time, Seifer was struck by the unparalleled _calm_ of the man- his smooth, unhurried movements seemed to be an extension of his assuredness. Seifer supposed in situations of leadership that calm put many at ease- in his case, it made him restless, prickled something Seifer could classify no higher than basic instinct.

Serabin looked at him, his bright green eyes reflecting amusement and something else Seifer could not quite place. "Yes, well, perhaps we could finish our little duel sometime? In a more friendly atmosphere, of course. Since I became Headmaster, Ive had very little time for weapons training, and I do confess to miss it."

"Yeah," replied Seifer. "Sure. Anytime."

Serabin smiled, bowing his head a fraction. "In fact, what better time than now? I have a break between meetings, and you can brief me during. It would be preferable to sitting, wouldnt it?"

Surprised, Seifer shrugged. "Sure."

More interesting than a conventional debriefing, anyway.

Serabin lead him through the halls, nodding at students as he went. "As you can see, the renovations are complete. In fact, I believe this one has been built superior to its predecessor, specifically in the aerial defense systems. We have your Ceres to thank, of course, for her input."

Seifer nodded, looking around. The place, like Balamb Garden, fairly glowed with new plaster and marble, and the smell of new paint still hung in the air. "It looks good. Although I hear you wont be here for long."

Serabin inclined his silver head towards Seifer, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Nothing escapes you over at Balamb, does it? I admit, I was as surprised as you were when the Estharian Presidential nominations were announced. Xu need not be worried. Should things change, I will certainly confer on her the opportunity to help select a suitable candidate in my stead for G. Garden."

Serabin clasped his hands behind his back as he walked. "But I digress. Where are my manners? You must forgive my tardiness. Now that G. Garden is almost functional, there are many last-minute preparations to be made. Its good to see you again-Strife, is it now?"

Seifer nodded. "Publicly, at least."

"Xu has intestinal fortitude, to be sure. I must confess my surprise that your cover has not yet been blown, as popular as you are-or were, despite the marvels of Ceres's new cloaking technology."

Seifer shrugged. "It's a low-profile position, and I'm rarely around the Garden. The members of my team are also pretty new. The tabloids had fun with it for awhile, but I guess Xu figures it doesn't matter one way or the other, since the pardon. Even if I am discovered, Xus made it pretty clear that I'll have no affiliation with Garden, or anyone in it."

Serabin smiled. "I had forgotten how..._practical_ Xu can be." He nodded to another group of students as they passed by, who bowed in turn.

"If you mean cold-blooded, then yeah. Thats Xu. She seems to be doing all right so far, though."

_Not that he would ever tell her that._

Serabin pressed his palm to the keypad on a door on the far hall. It whooshed open, revealing a new training center, complete with mats, weapons, and a rather intimidating cathedral ceiling that amplified every pinprick of sound. Serabin rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. "And how is B. Garden, aside from operational?"

"Busy. Xu's got more contracts that she bargained for, I think, on the private level." Seifer removed his jacket, following Serabin's lead and picking up one of the practice gunblades.

Serabin smiled. "Yes, that sounds like Headmaster Chang. And Miss Trepe, how is she? It _is_ still _Trepe_, isnt it?"

Something hot twisted in Seifer's gut at Glyphias's question, but he ignored it. He swung the blade, experimentally. It didn't have Helios girth or weight, but he remembered the arc and the flow of the gunblade well enough. He'd practically slept with it when he was training. "Yeah, still Trepe. Shes fine. Busy helping Kadowaki with her research at the moment."

Serabin inclined his head, pointing out the blade in a starting move. Seifer did the same, touching the swords, and in an instant, Serabin whirled and swung, forcing Seifer to take a defensive stance. Glyphias had been practicing.

Serabin lunged left and brought the blade down in a hard arc, clanging against Seifer's sword. The practice blades weren't sharp enough to be of any real danger, but they were still enough to badly injure a person if used carelessly. "I had the pleasure of reading Miss Trepe's paper on the effects of coupled mag-saline on long-term recovery in both magical and non-magical injury. An interesting read, to say the least."

Seifer blocked another hit, then lunged forward, forcing Serabin on the defensive. Seifer vaguely remembered her writing the paperor distracting her from writing it, at any rate. "I'll tell her you enjoyed it."

_Ha. No I wont._

"Do that." Serabin lunged, and Seifer jumped to the side, swinging his blade down over his head. Serabin blocked it with a loud clang, throwing him off before he could bear down on the sword with his full weight. The practice felt good- it had been too long since he had entered the old dance with a qualified opponent. He could feel the tension leaving him, becoming as fluid as the motions of his arms.

Serabin chuckled, blocking a hit and crouching, swinging his blade forward. "I imagine you're anxious to return home, Mr. Almasy, and I can hardly blame you. But first, please, what news from the Galbadia mission?"

"Your senate is pretty clean, for the time being," replied Seifer ducking and swinging the sword in a fluid arc before turning, backslashing and throwing the Galbadian Headmaster farther back. "Background, financial, and extracurricular activities are all noted in the folder I left with your receptionist. Chang said shed be happy to have us run a second surveillance once your politicians have gotten their feet wet."

_Or their hands dirty_

Seifer lunged again. "A few of your senators have an active sect on their campaign contributor list, which one of my team tells me is a pro-environment group with somewhat questionable negotiating tactics. They were protesting in the city while I was there. Also of interest on the list would be those whose campaign sponsors included the new EuGen group, an emerging energy company, as well as a couple of emerging weapons dealers. Theres some dirt in there, but not anything you wouldnt expect out of a trained suit. Its all in the copy of the report. If you have questions, my private line is in there, too."

"Impeccable work as always, although I would expect nothing less from the White SeeD. Such a useful group, really." Both young men were breathing a little heavy now, the clash of swords sharp in the empty room. "Tell Headmaster Xu that payment for services rendered will be delivered by the end of the business day."

"I will." Back step, side swing. The blade nearly missed his ear. Glyphias was starting to go for blood, which suited Seifer fine. He hated the sterility of normal practice duels-what the hell was the point if you weren't going to take it seriously?

Lunging back, Seifer allowed Serabin the next swing, taking the opportunity to turn just as Serabin struck and bringing his sword back as he dodged behind him. Serabin whirled, only to find himself with a gunblade pointed between his eyes. He smiled, plunging his sword into the rubber mat.

"Game, set, match," said Serabin, smiling. "It would seem that while your skills have improved, mine have not."

Seifer shrugged, breathing almost as hard as Glyphias. "I don't have a Garden to run. Training is all I do."

The man in front of him chuckled, flicking a lock of silver hair behind his ear as he gave Seifer a shallow bow. "Thank you for your work, for the exercise, and for your generous excuses for my poor swordplay," said the Headmaster, bowing slightly. He walked over to the wall, pulling out a comlink and pressing a button. "Yes, Mr. Strife is ready to leave. Room 5B, please."

"Saerah will see you out. I'm afraid its a bit of a maze."

"Thanks."

Serabin held out his hand, and Seifer stepped forward to shake it.

"And Seifer? Please send Miss Trepe my warmest regards." There was a knowing look in Serabins eyesit lurked around the corners of his smile, pacing like a junkyard dog. He recognized it immediately- it was the look of a man that knew your girlfriend as well as you did. Seifer narrowed his eyes a fraction.

"I will."

_The hell I will._

Serabin's grip was harder than ceremony required, but then, Seifer's was not light, either. Even as he grinned at Serabin, Seifer felt several of his knuckles pop under the formality. He returned the gesture, squeezing back with equal force until he thought one of their hands was going to fall off.

Abruptly, Serabin released the hold, smiling pleasantly and showing no hint that he recognized their exchange as anything but congenial. "Take care, Mr. Strife. I feel certain that well see one another soon."

Seifer waited until he was well on his way to the White Seed ship before cracking his knuckles, trying to squeeze the static of Serabin's grip out of his hand. The Headmaster must have been working out on his off hours.

"Sir, we're ready to depart. Your orders?"

Seifer rolled his eyes. "Brice, what the hell did I tell you about calling me sir?"

"Oh yeah, right, sorry Commander Strife, sir. I mean, Commander Strife."

Seifer rolled his eyes. That kid really needed to relax. "Set the course due South. Xu wants us stowed on the Timber shores, for now. Then we wait for the pick up."

Brice saluted. "Right away, Commander."

"And Brice?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"I order you to relax, for fuck's sake." That kid was going to give himself a coronary by age 25.

The young man saluted again. "Yes, sir."

Seifer rolled his eyes and shook his head as the young man bowed and hurried back into the cabin.

The sails unfurled and soon, the ship was coasting at a steady speed. Seifer folded his arms, staring out at the sea as the waves whipped by him and the coast drifted further away. Sunlight now lit the SeeD deck, empty save for himself, his hair plastered to his face and his coat tails fluttering behind him.

He gazed into the sunset, tangerine clouds soft against the silver of the water.

He wondered what she was doing now.


	4. New Currency

A/N: Sorry for the delay. My semester is hell. Also, you may want to look through the past chapters. Theres been some changes. Thanks so much for all your kind words so far, and I hope you enjoy! Oh, and I have to thank Sarinia Trepe for the chat scene between Seifer and Quistis- go read her story, FF8-DGO, its in my favorites section and its _hilarious_! (I wish shed write a sequel, hint hint! J )

While Im at it, I highly recommend that you all check out the authors/stories in my favorites section- theyre all great picks if youre in need of a good read!

Gods and Gardens

Chapter 3

If I don't say this now I will surely break  
As I'm leaving the one I want to take  
Forgive the urgency but hurry up and wait  
My heart has started to separate

There now, steady love, so few come and don't go  
Will you won't you, be the one I always know  
When I'm losing my control, the city spins around  
You're the only one who knows, you slow it down

It's always have and never hold  
You've begun to feel like home  
What's mine is yours to leave or take  
What's mine is yours to make your own

Ill look after you.

-The Fray Look After You

After ten o clock in Balamb Garden, the sound of a pin drop could be heard throughout most of the halls. Curfew was at 9pm, and only the hall monitors and high ranking officers had excuses for roaming the halls with impunity. He knew these rules well, and he also knew the corridors to walk to be avoided.

Shuffling in with the rest of his crew, Seifer Almasy was filthy, hungry, and exhausted. The usual grime inherent in long travels with little ventilation hung heavily on his skin, weighing him down with every step. The rest of his squad shuffled off to bed- Seifer, however, had a late-night meeting to attend to.

Adjusting his collar, he began the long trek down the polished marble halls. The White SeeD all wore high necked jackets that zipped over their mouths and noses- the heavy hoods obscured a clear view of their eyes. They were all required to wear the outfits when traveling back to Balamb Garden, to reduce visibility, and to prevent other students from recognizing them, should they happen to be spotted. The only other people who would ever see the White SeeDs faces would be dead at the end of the business day, anyway. Frankly, Seifer thought it made them look like a badly dressed cult, but he left Xu her delusions, however numerous. The White SeeD was never around during normal operating hours, and if they were, they were virtually incognito- a mist in the halls. In fact, there were only a select few that knew the identity of the group- Xu, and the rest of the heroes. With the exception of Laguna and Serabin, that anonymity extended to those that contracted them- that way, everyone was blissfully unaware should anycomplications arise.

Seifer raked a hand through his hair, his thumb running across the piece of plaster in the groove of his scar before peeling it off. He unfastened the chip on his neck, feeling a prickling sensation on his scalp and momentary blind spots in his eyes- a glitch Ceres was still working on. He stuffed the chip into his pocket. They were single-use chips, with only enough Cloak/Shield hybrid magic to last a day- hed have to acquire more from the supply room before he left.

He took a turn around the corner. What he needed was a hot meal, a shower, and some sleep. The last thing he needed was Xu Chang.

Yawning, he entered the pass code for the administrative wing, and pulled down his hood as he shuffled into the well-lit office. The Headmaster was slightly reclined in her seat, flipping through a manila folder. He swore the woman never slept.

Thought I smelled wet dog, said Xu, without looking up.

Seifer unzipped his jacket and tossed his mission write-up onto her desk.

After a moment, she turned page in her report as she spared a glance at him, sighing. What a shame. Youve returned safely.

Nice to see you too, princess, replied Seifer, putting his muddy feet up on her desk.

The Headmaster licked her fingertip, turning another page. Mm. Keep them there and Ill break them.

Break them and youre out a workhouse, replied Seifer, folding his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. More than anything, he relied on Xus love of efficiency not to kill him. If she did, shed have to train a new illegal faction leader, and Xu was nothing if not practical. Now, what is it I had to haul ass back for?

Xu set the folder down. Constructions going to start around EuGen pretty soon- they want to further develop the sister cities that have sprung up around it. First, they need a clean-up crew. There have been some pretty nasty Marlboro infestations recently, and its costing them a lot of man hours...and men. Ill need a lot of bodies on that job.

Thats supervised JC work, replied Seifer, raising an eyebrow. Why do you need me there?

I dont. replied the Headmistress. Lagunas simultaneously contracted us for a clean sweep of the city now that rebuilding efforts are complete in Esthar. I can only split up my teams so much, and Ive got Leonhart and Kinneas contracted for something else. That leaves a handful of other SeeDs to baby-sit EuGens operation, and Dinchts out. I want you to take your team to Estharits easy work, and Lagunas one of the five people that know about you, so you can work with Kiros and Ward and keep it low profile. Besides, I dont want EuGen knowing about you guys. I dont trust them. What I want in Esthar is a clean job and minimal headaches, and your team has a reasonably good record so far. You can wipe the fuckers out at night with a couple of floodlights, shouldnt take you more than a few days.

Careful, replied Seifer, yawning. Youre coming dangerously close to calling me competent.

I know, replied Xu, looking unhappy. Leaning forward, she tossed the brief across the desk, the thick sheath colliding with Seifers boots. Youre contracted until the job is done to Lagunas satisfaction.

Seifer leaned forward and grabbed the file, thumbing through it. Low-profileminimal artillerytch. Wheres the fun?

Theres something else I want you to do for me while youre there, said the Headmaster, folding her arms across her chest as she reclined.

Oh?

Theres an emerging terrorist sect reportedly milling around Esthar. Rumor has it theyre going to be targeting the construction sites in EuGen pretty soon. Might be an offshoot of Eve, might not. Mid-level, newly operative. I want you to gather initial information, pictures, numbers, that kind of thing.

**More** surveillancefucking great.

Xu rolled her eyes. Take the missions and get out of my sight, she muttered, turning the chair around. And if youre looking for Quistis, dont bother. She had a last-minute mission herself.

_Screwed again._

_Or not._

Where?

Just a little contract negotiation, replied Xu, looking back down at her report.

I leave, she stays. I stay, she goes. If I didnt know better, Id say you didnt _want_ us to be together, Xu.

You know what they sayabsence makes the heart grow fonder. Or maybe Im thinking of _my_ fondness for you. Hm. Xu turned another page in the report. Leave and lets see which one it is.

Seifer got to his feet, slinging Helios over his shoulder as he shoved the manila folder inside his jacket. Oh, Xu, we all know you dont have a heart. Its like your female reproductive organs, all shriveled and blackened from years of disuse-

Xu, like every other Headmaster before her, had a collection of paperweights. However, unlike every other Headmaster before her, Xu used them for Seifers skull.

This particular paperweight, a bronze apple, dented the plaster above his head.

Such a shame, mused Seifer. You pee like a man, but you throw like a

Xus next throw, a pewter replica of the Ragnarok, ricocheted off the door as Seifer made a hasty retreat, his laughter echoing down the empty corridor. Xu set down her next projectile, a letter opener, and swore under her breath.

Checking the back of his head to make sure there were no new puncture wounds, Seifer shuffled tiredly to room 22B West and slid the key card through the door. Seifer Almasy, being dead, no longer had a dorm room, but fortunately for him, Quistis Trepe still had her old Instructor suite. This was good, because he didnt feel like driving all the way back to the beach house tonight. Rajin would let the dogs out, and feed Glyph. Hed run back to the house before the Ragnarok took off and pick up a spare set of clothes tomorrow.

The room was surprisingly messy, by Quistis standards- she must have left in a rush. Medical textbooks were strewn across her desk, along with several highlighted pages of notes, some of which had spilled onto the floor. A cold cup of coffee sat on her nightstand, and a white lab coat was slung haphazardly over a chair. Seifer leaned over the desk as he took off his jacket, glancing at her sketches. She had some chemical equations in the margins, along with some other energy equations that didnt look familiar. Then again, he had never really paid much attention inpretty much any scholastic setting, come to think of it. It was probably something for the research she and Kadowaki were doing. Quistis spent a lot of time studying in the SeeD dorms while she was there, as she got virtually no work done at the beach house. Hed served as a guinea pig several times in the lab for the two ladieswith various rewards, mostly from Quistis.

Quistis did not exactly live in the beach house, but she didnt live at Garden, either. She split her time between the two, and her things were split haphazardly between both places as well. She had several drawers dedicated to her at the beach house, and took up a large amount of space in Seifers closet. At first, Seifer had been protective of his space- he had been rather intimidated by the prospect of living with someone. However, as time wore on, he found her presence was not intrusive- that in fact, he liked her touches around the house, and that he almost missed tripping over her shoes when she was gone. One of these days, hed convince her to move in permanently.

Yawning, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it into a corner of the room, falling forward in a heap onto the bed. His nose was instantly assaulted by the scent of her, buried deep in the pillows. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Raspberries and the scent of her shampoosweet and dark and thrilling.

an empty thrill, though, as she was long gone.

He stared at the bedside clock as he set the alarm- next to it, there was a picture of the two of them together. It had been taken during Balamb Gardens reconstruction- he had a bright white handprint on the side of his cheek, while Quistis had paint smeared across her forehead and nose. Their clothes were dripping with paint splatters- if he remembered right, this was just after they painted Dincht white with the stuff. He had his arm draped lazily around her, smirking at the camera, and Quistis was laughing, one of her slim hands braced against his chest. Selphie had grinned, pointed the camera, and yelled say cheese! He had plaster over his scar, of course, and his hair was blackened- he looked almost human in this photo. Quistiss hair had fallen completely out of its ponytail, sloping over her shoulder in a shine of gold and plaster- it always amazed him how pretty she was, how out of place in a military academy. No matter how often he saw her, he was always struck by it. She could have been a model, and he had told her so several times, only to be laughed at.

He supposed it was to his advantage that Quistis seemed ignorant of how to wield her looks- one of these days shed probably wake up and realize that she could have any man she wanted, not some carved up ex-knight with a hovel for a beach house that every day threatened to cave in.

His girlfriend. It felt weird thinking of her in those terms. He had never really had a girlfriend before, just a succession of one night stands strung together like links on a conquest chain. Sure, there was Rinoa, but none of that really counted- they were young and stupid. He was in love with the idea of protecting something, and she was in love with the idea of pissing her father off.

He remembered Quistis at Rinoa and Squalls wedding, two years ago, their matron of honor, dressed in blue and cream satin with her hair threaded with roses. Her blue eyes were lit up by the dresss deep color, her hair pinned up in long, loose curls. There was also a pistol strapped to the inside of her thigh for security, which he had discovered on the way to finding that she wasnt wearing underwearall in all, it had been a very distracting wedding. Along with everyone else, they had drunk too much champagne and stayed up late dancingher body soft against his, her mouth curving against his cheek as he whispered ridiculous things in her earhe remembered thinking then that she was the music in a hurricane- the order in his disordered life.

It occurred to him, too, that he should probably marry her. After all, girls liked that kind of shit and they had been together over three years without killing each other. Still, what could he give her? A hovel by the sea? Someone elses name?

Seifer Almasy wasnt the marrying kind, was he?

_Serabins__ voice It _**is**_ still Trepe, isnt it?_

He exhaled into the pillow, shutting his eyes against the thought of them together. Four hours of sleep, and hed be dragging his ass out of bed for another mission.

He fell asleep instantly, with her scent in his senses and a single thought in his mind:

_Soon_.

The word stretched in every direction.

..

By the time the Ragnarok touched down, Quistis had to resist the urge to run out and kiss the ground. Neither Selphies flying nor Quistis stomach for it had improved over the years, and as Quistis walked down the platform, she felt her organs to make sure they hadnt been left behind beneath her seat.

Selphie stood in the entryway. Good luck, Quisty! Ill see you tomorrow, eleven hundred minutes sharp!

Quistis smiled and shook her head as she waved at her friend. Even after nearly five years, Selphies sense of military timing was still terrible.

A handsome young man stood outside a sleek black limousine, shielding his eyes from the sun and the dust as the Ragnarok took off. Miss Trepe? His name tag read EuGen, and he wore a plain dark blue suit.

Yes.

Smiling, he opened the door for her. Allow me to escort you to the building.

EuGen was an impressive structure located amongst and outcropping of smaller towns, all of which had sprung up since its development. The Ragnarok had been forced to land well outside the residential areas, and because of this, Quistis was assured a vehicle escort to the building.

The car rumbled with enough force to rattle her seat, and Quistis braced her hand on the window. The drivers dark eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. A small earthquake, Miss Trepe, he explained. Common in this area, and nothing to worry about.

After a moment, the shaking stopped, and Quistis was left to enjoy the rest of the ride in the limo in peace. She found a small flute of mimosa perched in a decorative cup holder, and took a sip. EuGen certainly knew how to treat its guests. Perhaps this visit wouldnt be so bad, after all.

Her visit had been fully prepared for and accommodated, explained her driver- she would be spending the night in one of the small developing towns, at a small inn. After thanking her driver and adjusting her sleeves, Quistis picked up her briefcase and headed towards the EuGen gates. For being only two years old, it was still an impressive-looking complex, with a single high rise tower in the back and a plain, single-story complex in front, where Quistis suspected they kept their labs and offices. Large metal tubes plunged into the earth behind the large tower, giving the impression of a poised steel arachnid.

The main entryway was filled with a series of fountains, and a large platform featuring an impressive-looking motorcycle. Prototype: X2497: Material fueled twin engine. It was an upgrade from Seifers current model, to be sure. Shed have to tell him about it. Reaching into her purse, she flipped open her phone and snapped a picture to show Rajin and Seifer when she got home.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small handful of cards and sorting through them until she found the right one. Her appointment card read 1:30- she was early. Below it, she had her hotel stipend- good for one night at the LackaDaisy Inn, wherever that was. The sooner she got this contract signed, the sooner she could get out of these heels and order a big cart of room service items at Xus expense. She tucked the cards back into her pocket, smoothing her suit. She was wearing a plain black jacket and skirt set, with a pressed white blouse underneath. She had not worn the SeeD uniform since her original was practically blown off of her in Esthar- as far as she knew, the shreds were hanging in some museum, along with the fifty thousand fragments of steel and glass that had practically gone through her. Irvine said that they had fragments of Galbadia Garden, (among them a toilet seat), as well as preserved tissues samples of what remained of Adel, which amounted to an arm and half a face. Squall regarded the exhibit with a kind of grim irritation, but Zell, Irvine and Selphie seemed to find it wildly funny, Zell going so far as to sign his old cast for the exhibit featuring the Battle with the Bionic Sorceress. Still, there were things there that Quistis did not want to rememberand despite her friends recommendations, she had no intentions of going to see the iconized items of her pain and suffering.

She had never much cared for war museums- the tattered uniforms, the old pistols with small signs below them detailing their origins, things far apart from the horrors they had seen. Perhaps it was because she knew what it felt like to wear a uniformto shoot a gunto have a bullet burst through her flesh. These things, the real souvenirs of war, were not things that people left behind in a museumthey carried them around like shrapnel in the skin every day.

In some ways, she missed her SeeD uniformbut she was no longer SeeD and it was no longer appropriate. Once an Alpha-level caster, she now had no ability to cast, and she had found out nearly two years ago that this applied to her Blue magic as well. She was no longer Quistis Trepe, SeeD first class-she was simply Quistis Trepe. It seemed a very short name, now. Quistis had been familiar with Quistis Trepe, Second Lieutenant and SeeD first class. She was still learning things about Quistis Trepe, doctor in training and girlfriend to a dead man.

She rounded the corner. There was a man standing in the main room, dressed in a white lab coat with his hands folded behind his back. Squinting, she could see his name tag flash under the florescent lights- Dr. Hojo, one of the scientists Xu had told her about. Excellent. She wouldnt have to search for him in the maze of offices and laboratories. This saved time.

She walked forward, taking him in. As a naturally cautious person, Quistis first impressions of people were often ruthless, and Hojo was no different. Hojo was a gaunt looking man with an eager, rat-like face and intelligent dark eyes. His forehead bulged through his dark, disheveled hair, as if his brain were trying to crawl out of his skull. She half-expected a tail to twitch behind him. He smiled at her, running the tip of his tongue along his top teeth and giving her a look that made her feel as if she was under a cover slip, as if he had dismantled and reassembled her in the span of a second. She disliked him immediately.

Something instinctive in her recoiled, even if every other part of her walked forward, and extended her hand.

She inclined her head respectfully, the lines of her lips stretched only to accommodate the barest of smiles. Dr. Hojo, Im Quistis Trepe, sent on behalf of Balamb Garden. Its a pleasure to meet you.

_Liar, and its probably showing_, a voice in the back of her head nagged. _Be nice. You should be building diplomatic relations._

_Just get it signed and get the hell out,_ replied another. This one she liked better. This one told her to order a big bottle of wine at Xus expense for making her run this fools errand.

Hojos hand was cold and smelled of antiseptic, and the feeling washed through her as soon as their skin collided. The pleasure is ours. It is quite an honor to meet one of the heroes.

She inclined her head in response. She had never gotten used to being called a hero, and was ever unsure of how to acknowledge it.

Hojo motioned behind him. Gast sends his apologies, but hes finishing some things up at one of our northern excavation sites. A pityI know he would have liked to meet you. Hojo released her hand and stepped back. At any rate, welcome. Im afraid youll have to excuse the mess. The company is expanding at a larger rate than we could have predicted, and as such, construction is a constant. Please, this way.

You must be doing well, to be expanding so fast, remarked Quistis, dodging the plaster and support blocks.

Yes, replied Hojo. There is talk of a possible merger already, but the details are not yet cemented. For now, I must say nothing. I would hate to scare away our investors. His smile was positively oily.

She followed behind him, her soldier training fluttering to the surface as she committed the layout of the facility to memory. She also sized up Hojo- his hair, his toothpick limbs. She could easily break one of them. She swatted that stray thought away like a fly, chiding her soldiers instinct as she would a child. Though she was no longer a caster, she could still destroy a man physically, and the knowledge was part of her, trailing her like a loyal dog. Something primal in her disliked the man- but it was inexplicable and not at all useful in a diplomatic setting. She set it aside for now.

The room he led her to was a large, round room filled with glass jars and bluish liquid that decorated every inch of the twenty foot shelves. Within the liquid floated countless animals, both large and small: lizards, grats, even part of a wendigo graced a particularly large jar, its tendons and a partial vertebra protruding from the severed head. On his desk stood a large jar featuring a human hand severed at the elbow, the fingers bent and extended upward as if trying to screw its way out. Making a face, Quistis quickly diverted her attention to the only other thing in the room- Hojo. It was a toss-up as to which she found less uncomfortable.

I see youre admiring my specimens.

You have quite a collection, she replied, truthfully, lacing her hands behind her back.

Yes. They are from all over- some are quite rare.

Quistis wanted to ask about their usefulness dead and canned, but she refrained. She had the feeling that she didnt want to know.

Hojo folded his hands. Youll have to forgive the mess in my office as well. So many experimentsso many specimens

She acknowledged his apology with a slight bow. Its understandable.

Hm. Youre being polite. Hojo frowned at her, as if he found the idea insulting. Would you care for a tour? EuGen protocol insists that I show our facility to all kind enough to help in our work, and to answer any questions you may have about our mission here. This was obviously a practiced speech, and one Hojo himself seemed to find distasteful.

Anything to get out of this room, and the thousands of eyes peering dully out at her from their formaldehyde tombs. Yes, thank you.

She would come to regret her decision immensely.

First, there seemed to be an endless amount of stairs. Her boots clopped on the metal winding platforms, creating crashing echoes. Down, down, down, down into the steam and the roar of the generators. The height was giving her a strange sense of vergito, but perhaps it was the noise. Hojo was saying something about the sub-terrainian conditions being ideal for the necessary reactions, but it was difficult to hear him. She eventually stopped listening to him altogether, and focused on maintaining her balance.

Quistis quickly lost track of direction. Below, there was swirling steam and the loud, throbbing hum of the massive generators. Up, there was the swirling staircase and the blinking of overhead lights. Directions quickly condensed there until there was only _down_ and _up_.

At last, said Hojo, looking around, folding his arms. Weve arrived.

Arrived?

The core _reactor_, replied Hojo, as if he were talking to a child. They stood on a metal grating, surrounded by steam. Here, we have what we call a Mako Reactor core, the first of its kind on a significant scale. Mako refers to the energy that you SeeDs are used to drawing in its raw form, a name Gast coined for it in his early research. I rather like it better than the world _magic_, with I believe is _whimsical_ and misleading. The reactor here uses heat to first convert the substance into a liquid, then high pressure to convert it further into an orb. The final product is Materia, an orb of condensed mako that can be used as a conduit for human and mako interaction. An experienced SeeD like yourself has learned to convert mako energy through rigorous training, and in fact what you do is a form of the conversion we have developed here. However, the energy you use is finite- it must be continually replenished. Made properly, a condensed materia sphere can last much, much longer.

I thought it could also be used as an energy source? That is the most common use for it currently, am I right? She leaned on the railing. She was beginning to feel nauseous, but throwing on Hojos shoes did not seem like a good way of building diplomatic unity.

Of course, and that is what you see before you. A generator like this is not designed for production of Materia, but rather, uses raw Materia as a power source. It creates it through high pressure, then utilizes the energy released by the subsequent reaction.

Quistis knew from experience that learning to draw raw mag-energy, or mako energy, as Hojo called it, was a process that literally took years. The energy was unstable, unpredictable, and very few people had the temperance for it. There were lower animals that could accomplish it, but the junction and release aspect of it resulted from years of evolution, and was poignant, but directionless. It was a gut reaction, a defense mechanism that arose like a reflex, and lacked the finesse that a human medium was capable of producing. Quistis, who had channeled the energy through her veins for years, found the idea fantastic that it could be harnessed and controlled to such an extent. She had worked for years, and was considered a top caster, alpha level, bested only by Rinoas sorceress abilities. Even in Quistis own veins, however, the magic was a rushing sensation, unstable and mostly unpredictable. It took absolute concentration, and to walk around with magic constantly junctioned was extremely tiresome to those who had not built up a tolerance. She did not control the energy, perse, but channeled it, directed it, and did it quickly, before the energy denatured in the body. Seifer, who was terrible with Bolt magic, constantly misfired it, and had the burns to prove it. She had her own souvenirs from the process, well-hidden by her sleeves. To watch it running through the metal pipes, humming through the generator like a sleeping beast, was a strangely thrilling experience.

Its amazing. She said, truthfully. And it wasif not a little frightening. In some ways, harnessing raw mag-energy was like harnessing a god.

The noise in the pipes was whirring, a solid whisper against the wanted to put her hands on the pipes, to feel the vibrations hum against her fingertips.

Im sorry, what? she said.

Hojo glanced at her. I said nothing.

The current was pounding through the walls. Her ears were pounding. Her arms were pounding. She looked down at her wrists, the scars, and it seemed to her that her blood was trying to burst through them, so loud was the pounding in her ears.

She felt dizzy.

The room was too loud, too large, and it seemed to be sucking her in, a thrum, a buzz that drew steadily louder, pulling at her, screaming at her, like knives stabbing through her ears, punching into her brain-

Quistis put her palm to one of the generator pipes to steady herself, and instantly, her entire body was filled with pain, a terrible pain that coursed through her like a current, spiking in her from head to toe. She opened her eyes wide and tried to snatch her hand away, but it seemed stuck, soddered to the metal by some invisible force. Something was shrieking in her ears, unintelligible but deafening, and she gritted her teeth, her head ringing, her hand burning-

Miss Trepe.

Jumping, she tore her hand away, gasping for breath.

Miss Trepe.

She turned to find Hojo, looking at her intensely. Are you feeling all right? There was no concern in the mans voice- rather, a morbid curiosity Quistis suspected stemmed from something much more sinister. The man seemed positively fascinated with her discomfort.

Her hand was positively on fire- a quick glance showed an angry burn quickly spreading across her palm.

Yes, fine, thank you, she lied, putting her hand behind her back. Thank you for the tour. Shall we attend to the contracts now?

Of course, replied Hojo, smiling. Right this way.

Hojo led her to a small white room, the color so stark it almost seemed to give off a soft, gentle sound. It was a contrast to the fury and fire of the reactor, and she was grateful for it. There was a single table in the room with two metal folding chairs, and Quistis quickly sat down, pressing her palm against the cold metal of the chair bottom.

May I get you something for the burn?

_Damnit__.__ He saw it._

Im fine, she replied, feeling like an idiot. _What was _**wrong**_ with her today?_

Hojo set down the contract on the table in front of her. Im afraid, Miss Trepe, that there can be no negotiation.

She blinked. Im sorry?

Youre a reasonably intelligent woman, I think. Surely you know that I understand that your Headmistress wishes to use our Draw sites to fuel her military, and not her medical research.

Dr. Hojo, Balamb has offered a generous sum-

Which pales in comparison to the gil this company turns over in profit every _week_. I believe you know this, too.

The proposed usage is relatively small-

He folded his hands. It isnt a question of your proposed use- its an issue of _rights_ to use.

Quistis wanted to throw up her hands. Look, Dr. Hojo, you could have sent your immediate refusal when you last conversed with Xu. And yet, I was sent here. Youre a busy man- I cant believe that you would waste an afternoon. There must be something you want.

There is.

The two looked at each other for a long moment, and Quistis was filled with an unexplained sense of foreboding.

Im sorry, didnt I inquire as to what? Quistis tried to tear herself away from the mans gaze, failing miserably. Her hand was killing her.

There is, in fact, something you do have for which this company would be willing to trade.

Which would be? Between the terrible burn and her growing dislike for the man, she was rapidly losing patience.

Why, _you_, Miss Trepe, replied Hojo, leaning forward.

_A feeling like ice water spread over her, pooling in her stomach. _

Im sorry, I must have heard you wrong.

The doctor smiled, the light catching his dark eyes and she knew instantly that he was smarter than she, light years ahead of her. While her reasonably bright mind had traveled down a few avenues of his possible meaning, his mind had plotted thousands. It was a decidedly uncomfortable feeling. She could kill him, true, but that thought gave her little comfort at the moment.

Your case of mag poisoning is an unprecedented one. Thus far, we have only cases that have survived at 47% blood concentration, and those ended in an acidosis-induced coma. Though two cases awakened, there wereundesirable side effects. You have survived at over 87% concentration, with full function.

Im sorry, but I still dont understand.

As you know EuGen is refining raw magic into concentrated capsules, called Materia, for commercial use. However, we want to better understand the effects of raw or denatured mako, what you call mag-energy, on the body. Hojo folded his hands and placed his chin atop them. In other words, we would like to acquire your consent to examine your blood and tissue, in exchange for unlimited rights to the mako sites on our lands for both medical and military purposes.

_What?_

She stalled. Ill need to speak to Xu-

Your Headmistress has already given her consent.

_Shit._

Something that had uneasily stabbed at Quistis since her arrival now sharpened into something like anger. She did, did she? she repeated, trying to quell the feeling of being ambushedand a little betrayed.

Hojo handed her a stack of papers. This contract states that all biomass retrieved, that is, that you allow us to harness, becomes the property of EuGen and thus is subject to its exclusive and classified use.

Quistis scanned the paper. Sure enough, Xus signature was already at the bottom, along with Hojos.

_She ambushed me. She ambushed me with this shit because she knew shed have to drag me into this place kicking and screaming otherwise._

She set down the stack. And if I refuse?

EuGen is most content to keep its private lands private, said Hojo, smiling, folding his hands underneath his chin.

Quistis sat back. It was a small thing they were asking, her blood in exchange for rights to a myriad of land sites for an undisclosed amount of use.

Precisely why she didnt trust it.

Still, what choice did she have? If she refused, Gardens ability to harvest mag-energy would be limited to a few sites, and her and Kadowakis research would be limited as well. Xu could always go behind EuGens back to retrieve the mako, but if she was caught, it would mean severe sanctions, ones Garden could not currently afford to pay.

Quistis picked up the pen, and slowly, glanced over the paperwork. There didnt seem to be anything about creating a race of clones, or anything else ominous. Id like a copy of this, for my records, she said, looking at him coldly.

Of course, replied Hojo.

Quistis skimmed the stipulations. So Ill be required to report-

-once every month, for a year. finished Hojo. As well be interested to see how your blood replenishes, and in what condition. Your transport and lodging will be paid for, of course.

And after the year is up?

The contract expires. No strings attached, I assure you.

Quistis picked up the pen, and after a moments hesitation, looped her signature on the bottom, resisting an urge to wipe Hojos satisfied smile off his face by plunging the felt tip of the writing implement into his skinny neck.

Hojo stood. My assistant will take the samples. I believe youll find her to be most agreeable.

A rabid wendigo would have been preferable to the good doctor at that point, and she had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from telling him so.

To her surprise, it was not a rabid Wendigo that greeted her, but a beautiful young woman with long brown hair, her hands folded. You must be Quistis Trepe. Its a pleasure to meet you in person, she said, bowing respectfully. Your paper on GF hippocampus effects over prolonged use was very interesting to both Hojo and myself. Suddenly, she laughed. But Im getting ahead of myself! My name is Lucretia. May I take your coat, Miss Trepe?

Quistis raised an eyebrow. Had he kidnapped this woman? She seemed out of place in this sterile atmosphere, like a flower in an industrial park.

If I may ask you to remove your jacket and roll up your sleeves, please, you may have a seat in the chair.

Quistis obliged, rolling up the sleeves on her blouse and taking a seat.

Lucrecia reached out, taking her wrists in her hands. If the young woman was surprised at the terrible scars that snaked from her wrist to her armpit, she hid it well. Then again, they most likely had her file, and knew what to expect. Now, well just have a look at your veins to see which arm-Miss Trepe, your hand!

Please, call me Quistis, she replied, feeling strange at being addressed so formally by a woman her own age. And its fine. I was justcareless The flesh was an angry, smooth red, and beginning to blister.

Oh no, let me put something on it for you. This must sting terribly.

Lucrecia was certainly a pleasant change from Hojo, but then again, a rock would have been equally refreshing. Still, Quistis found herself relaxing for the first time all day. The young woman was sweet, and very gentle, and the two women chatted amicably as Quistis blood drained into a small plastic bag.

Im sorry if Hojo seemed rude, before. He can be a bit-

Intense? muttered Quistis, flexing her now bandaged hand. Because Quistis could not have any mag-infused potions or salines, Lucrecia had used a thick paste ground from one of the plants in the lab. It had helped, but Quistis still longed for the instantaneous relief of the magic. Natural healing was such a tedious process. Still, Kadowaki insisted on her absence from it- the traces, she said, were unstable, and adding more to it could only worsen her condition. At the same time, Quistis thought it had something to do with Kadowakis fear that Quistis, with her already high tolerance, could develop an addiction to Junctioning, a dependency in spite of all the pain it caused her. Her fears were misplaced. Quistis had no wish to spend hours over the toilet, dry heaving for hours as she had when she had tried to summon her Blue Magic again last year.

I was going to say, abrupt, said Lucretia, her cheeks coloring. Hojo is brilliant, but Im afraid he lackssocial finesse at times.

_I was going to say humanity_, thought Quistis to herself. _But social finesse works, too._

Quistis squeezed the piece of foam in her hand, watching her blood coil down in a dark plastic coil. She felt detached, watching it go, knowing now the cells accumulating in the bag no longer belonged to her, but were a copyrightand herself, a specimen like those whose eyes glittered dully in Hojos jars.

_Youre being dramatic_, she told herself.

I cant imagine what good this can do. Said Quistis, pumping her fist again.

A world of good! exclaimed the pretty young woman. Once we understand whats so special about you, we can isolate and replicate the factor. New breakthroughs in bio-mag infusions for medical purposes-

And military, no doubt. said Quistis dully, but Lucretia did not seem to hear her. She watched her blood drain into the coil, but it no longer seemed a part of her.

..

_This is Lucrecia Cresent, scientist at EuGen Laboratories. The following is a series of taped interviews with Specimen 041657, name Quistis Trepe. Sorry, Quistis, the specimen thing is just Hojos formality._

_Its fine._

_What is your name?_

_Quistis Trepe._

_Your birthday?_

_October 4th._

_Please recount, as best you can, the Second Siege of Esthar._

_Balamb Garden had just been shot down. Our last radio communication showed that our soldiers were in trouble. I went to Esthar to see if I could help. Commander Leonhart had been woundedI helped him as best as I could and sent him back to base. There were thousands of Galbadian soldiers, a few ATMs, a kamakazi-type tankthat was my biggest concern. I was suffering from acute mag-poisoning, but I thought I could still be of some help. I was still Junctioned against doctors orders._

_I deployed the JCs, and tried to make a stronghold, but it was failing. I eventually ordered the retreat._

_Lucrecias__ voice.__ But you stayed._

_A pause.__ Yes. I wanted to see if I could take out the tank._

**_I think I wanted to die._**

_And?_

_It gets fuzzyI unloaded the last clip at it, using one of the machine guns on the mobile-type units. They told me later that I had summoned ProtectI really dont remember that, or anything after that._

_You had extensive injuries._

_It should be there in the medical report._

_And you had mag-poisoning before, correct?_

_Yes. I over-cast myself on a fellow cadet._

_Spells used?_

_Cure and Esuna, mostly._

_Do you recall what level poisoning Kadowaki characterized your symptoms at?_

_Im afraid I dont. I was restricted from casting, though._

_After the Second Siege of Estharyour symptoms upon awaking?_

_I was nauseated all the timemy muscles had severely atrophied due to the hemorrhaged spells and the prolonged period of disuse. I hadover two hundred stitches._

_You were in a coma for several weeks, am I right?_

_If thats what the report says. I dont remember._

_Do you remember anything about that time?_

_no. _

There was no way she was going to tell them about the ocean, about Cid. She remembered that well enoughtrying to follow Cid into the water, but something pulling her backpulling her uppulling her away from the ocean and the people she wanted to see-

_This concludes Session 1, Specimen 041657, Quistis Trepe. Thank you, Quistis._

In the antiseptic solitude of her hotel room, Quistis sat surrounded by room service, her hand in a bucket of ice that came with the wine. Although the alcohol had dulled her senses, it did nothing to dull the pain that beat in her chest, thinking of Cid and the beach and the sterile, numb dark of the dream that the deposition had churned up. She wore a tank top and a pair of shorts, the right lip of the fabric bunched up to expose a piece of gauze taped to her upper thigh where they had harvested a small tissue sample. They had used a kind of metallic punch tool, an instrument that took a small, symmetrical, and deep chunk of flesh. Lucrecia assured her it would soon heal.

She had already sent Xu a confirmation e-mail to let her know that the acquisition papers were signed, resisting the urge to add on a few choice words for ambushing her with the contract. She decided to save them for later.

She settled back against her pillow and took a long sip of wine.

_Cid, in the water, smiling at her. Her mother, in the water.a billion voices whispering under the wavesand yet, she could walk no furthershe could not reach them_

_Her blood in a bagnew currencybut then, it had been currency the second she put on the uniform. _

_What else do I have to sell? What else do I have left?_

She raised the bottle of wine in a toast. Cheers, she muttered dully, to no one.

.

.

*

ROOM 11467 HAS BEEN CREATED BY BOOK_WURM AT 12:55 AM.

**firacruz**** has signed on.**

firacruz: You here?

**blue**** has signed on.**

blue: hey

firacruz: hey

blue: it was pretty nice of Ceres to set this up

firacruz: yeah

firacruz: so I was expecting this hot chick in my house when I got back- all I got was two dogs and some smelly fishmonger

blue: disappointed?

firacruz: yeah, a little. raj doesnt put out.

blue: haha

firacruz: i fixed the front door today before I left

blue: good, now you can fix the bed post.

firacruz: what do you mean?

blue: it squeaks! you _know_ it squeaks!

firacruz: hm, dont remember. youll have to get on it and show me when you get back.

blue: pervert.

firacruz: guilty. You know you like it

blue: I plead the fifth.

firacruz: where the hell are you anyway

blue: Currently, a guest of the EuGen corporation. Didnt they tell you?

firacruz: she mentioned somethingvague.

blue: She would. Dr. K was originally going to go and negotiate leasing rights for the draw points at EuGen, but the boss decided to send me instead.

firacruz: howd it go?

blue: The contracts signed, anyway

firacruz: whats up?

blue: Ill tell you when I get home.

firacruz: you betterdo I need to kill anyone?

blue: haha.

blue: where are you?

firacruz: cant say. Ill tell you about it later.

firacruz: so what are you wearing?

blue: oh no

firacruz: what?

blue: this isnt a fully secure transfer!

firacruz: come on.

blue: I highly doubt that this is the purpose for which these communication boards were designed.

firacruz: sure it is. use your imagination.

blue: no

firacruz: come on

blue: NO

firacruz: dont make me beg

blue: FINE. Remember what you got me from Timber?

firacruz: hell yeah

blue: That.

blue: hello?

firacruz: thats not fair.

blue: you asked!

firacruz: i immediately regret my decision

firacruz: man, now Ive got a fucking situation here

blue: Well, its your own fault. I think Ill go take a shower now, maybe order in some room service

firacruz: not in that outfit, you arent

blue: lol, i was kidding, Im wearing an old t-shirt and garden-issue shorts

firacruz: forget it, my minds still on the first one. Heartless whore.

blue: poor thing

firacruz: when are you getting back?

blue: tomorrow afternoon

firacruz: fucking great

blue: what is it?

firacruz: I wont be back till the day after

blue: two ships passing in the night..or is it trains..

firacruz: yeah, I know, it sucks. look, Ill get back in the afternoon, and Ill take you out to the blue crush.

blue: .my favorite restaurantwhatd you do? ;)

firacruz: nothingyet.

blue: hmmmm

firacruz: hmmmm..

blue: Well, I should get to bed. Sels coming early.

firacruz: yeah I gotta get up too.

firacruz: try not to have lewd dreams

blue: right

firacruz: of sitting on my face

blue: THIS IS A PUBLIC CHATROOM

firacruz: You could always sit around in your underwear

blue: STOP!!!

firacruz: and touch yourself

firacruz: and send me pictures.

blue: ugh, goodNIGHT

**Blue has signed out.**

_Firacruz__sign out? Y/N_

Y

ROOM 11467 HAS BEEN DELETED.

Closing the screen on his laptop, Seifer leaned back in the tent and laughed.

A/N: I promise, youll see some S/Q action in the next chapter! Till then!


	5. Letter 2

_Dear Quistis,_

_Sitting on this ship, right now, for the SECOND day in a row. I've decided that we are going to be pen pals. Don't try to talk me out of it, I've made up my mind! And we **all** know what happens when I make up my mind, don't we? Squall was just reading over my shoulder- he raised an eyebrow and walked away.  
_

_I imagine that you're the type of person that writes really good letters, Quistis- someone who fills up the pages with all sorts of fancy words and deep, wonderful thoughts. You're probably the kind of letter-writer that sends thick envelopes that are bulky and exciting to open. Along those lines, I'll try to be deep and interesting, too! Here I go!_

_I'm already missing Balamb and all the sights and sounds, and of course, all of you- so instead of sitting here making Squall watch me mope around the deck, I'm going to pour all my heartache into my pen (lucky you!) I think Squall expects me to be angry with him for moving us- after all, it was his idea, but even I can see the reason in it- even the reasons he isn't saying. With things moving as they are- with the international markets opening up and the world becoming a much 'bigger' place-it's gotten harder to 'hide' a Sorceress, if I was ever really hidden to begin with. I mean, people like to romanticize things, which is why I was so popular for awhile, but with new military movements...it's difficult to conceal a living weapon. I think its better that I go away for awhile, at least until the scientific community gives up on me as a test subject. I think Squall thinks it will be along the lines of 'out of sight, out of mind'....but after everything that's happened, how can that be?_

_  
Besides, all things considered Xu's got enough on her hands with the Garden Board monitoring every gil garden takes in and every surveillance it runs, without having to worry about defending me and my presence there. I don't blame Xu, and I don't blame Squall-there's not really anyone to blame in something like this, right? All things considered, I don't think blaming anyone would make me feel any better, anyway._

_This ship is really interesting-the big wide wooden deck is perfect for watching the sun set (or for getting really seasick, in my case). The White SeeD are all so polite- they seem so young to me, like kids, even when I know we're only a few years apart in age. Its nice to have an escort, at any rate, even if big meanie keeps making fun of me for getting seasick. Its so nice to be able to talk to him again, to see he and Squall talking together. I would never go so far as to call them friends-they're brothers, and they always will be, like it or not. The meanie spends most of the time steering the boat, although he and Squall have had a few rounds of Triple Triad (for example, I can hear them arguing about the rules right now in the cabin next to me.) Yesterday it was an argument about solar mapping vs. star navigation, and the day before it was some weird things about gun modification I couldn't follow. Even now that they're on the same side again, they still argue like cats and dogs.  
_

_I suppose some things never change, even when they do._

_Its so nice to see him happy, Quistis- to see that light in his eyes again and to know its directed at something wonderful this time._

_Something like you._

_When we set out, I told myself "I'll just think of this as a long vacation." Sitting here on the deck of the 'Seasick Princess' (that might as well be its name), I'm finding that harder to do than I thought. It doesn't feel like a vacation. It feels like an exile. Why is it so easy to tell you these things, Quistis? Maybe because I imagine you know what it's like to feel lonely, maybe better than anyone._

_I suppose writing letters is different than talking, isn't it? Its almost easier, in a way, because you don't have to look for someone's reaction while you're writing, and worry about saying the right things- you can just imagine whatever reaction you'd like for your recipient to have. Night now, I'm imagining you nodding sympathetically, for example. Are you?  
_

_Squall only wants to protect me- I suppose I have to give him credit for good intentions, right?_

_So- my vacation, then. I'll drink lemonade in frosty glasses and get my very own beach umbrella. I'll wear pretty sarongs and get a tan! Besides, its not like we can't ever visit each other, right? Already, I'm trying to find an excuse to visit Balamb with Squall on his next trip.  
_

_I suppose I should wrap up this letter- trying to read my writing is getting difficult as the waves get worse, and I'm sure you're sick of my complaining! I hope it's wonderful and sunny in Balamb, and that you're not working too hard! You should take your own vacation once in awhile, Quistis- even if its a pretend one, like mine!_

_Sincerely, _

_Your__ friend,_

_Rinoa_


	6. Red Tape Red Paint

"_The exact chemical composition of mag energy, insofar as to quantify it relative to other existing biomass, thus far has been unsuccessful. Though it has high conductivity relative to human tissue, it does not seem to have a magnetic charge, nor does it react with any known element. It is not simply energy, the way that a lightening strike is energy- it is not seemingly the _**result** _of anything, but rather, the essence of _**something**_. Each Draw point seems to procure differently characterized mag energy- bolt, fire, water, et cetera. As cited in Kolare, Kadowaki, et al., this may be attributed to the resources most abundant at its source, as in the Fire Cavern, but this rule does not apply to other energy such as Holy, nor does it apply to energy that heals. The single thing I have been able to extract form this energy is that it is _**not** _homogenous- different 'strains' present as different forms when junctioned- the concentration of the energy in the body denotes its force when cast. The form in which mag energy exists in the earth and the form in which most recognize it, within a living host, seem to be two different things. The energy is unmanageable in its raw state for laboratory purposes- without living cells to hold it, it retains no physical properties and dissipates upon casting. To have extracted it, manipulated it, condensed it- EuGen has stumbled upon an unprecedented breakthrough. While Hojo has explained the refinement process, he has not explained the means of extraction…I want to know how he does it without a bio medium._

_Dr. Odine, despite his assertions to the contrary, was not the first proponent of what he calls 'para-magic' theory. Early Junctioning techniques, from ancient texts, appear to be more accident than intent, and grounded more in spirituality than in physical science. There is a long-documented use of magic, as seen through Centra's ancient artifacts. Though the spiritual theory of Hyne lends an idea as to the presence of sorceresses, it does nothing to explain the source-point deposits present in areas all over the planet. Some radicals theorize that these deposits _**are** _Hyne's body…but, there are many such theories, all with equally unsatisfactory proof. _

_At any rate, the ability to junction and utilize magic was a high technique, an exclusive technique, that was passed on to those who survived their attempts. Since then, it has been refined, and has since (and perhaps, unfortunately) passed into the hands of the military, through Odine's instrument. The technique, though it has become more structured, is no less unstable. Each year, 1 out of every 20 cadets will die in the process. Every year, 1 out of every 5 potential SeeDs is released from the program due to an inability to junction GF's effectively. Frankly, before EuGen's 'innovation' our current knowledge of the energy as both entity and weapon was no more advanced than the ancient, spiritual texts that spoke of Gods that lurked beneath the planet. Can this new 'materia' provide a safer means of acquisition and use?_

_Note: It seems that the best way to study mag energy does not lie within its natural source, the earth, but in the conduit of human tissue to which it attaches once extracted (which, it should be noted, is the only thing it attaches to once extracted.) The symbiosis (and, perhaps, the opposite) between the energy and the living cell seems the only way currently to quantify it in any meaningful way. However…could any meaningful evidence be drawn from its _**extraction**_? Could the effects of massive withdrawal, as is currently in progress by EuGen, lend any meaningful evidence as to the relationship between the energy and the planet, and thus, between the energy and ourselves? Could the breakthrough of compression as a new means of utilization lend any insights as to the nature of GFs? N______ _

The Ragnarok made a sharp drop in altitude, causing Quistis' stomach and her pen to drop with it. Bracing her hand on the arm rest of her seat, Quistis closed her eyes and tried to think steady thoughts, most of which had to do with the ground and getting on it. She glanced out the window, relief flooding her as the lip of the island's shore came into view. She capped her pen, dog-eared her page in her lab notebook, and slipped both into her briefcase. Dr. Hojo's laboratory, besides being a very disturbing venture, had piqued her curiosity as to why he had ended up with **her** as a test subject. What was it specifically that Hojo was looking for in her veins? An immunity? A resistance? Liquid luck? Either way, the man was going to be vastly disappointed. She had seen the pictures from her stay in the hospital- still and pale, wires running into nearly every orifice of her body and her skin puffy and stitched together like a jigsaw puzzle. There was nothing remarkable hidden there in the bloodied body on the cot, just flesh and blood and some strange, sick twist of fate.

Her internship under Kadowaki was going remarkably well. Despite the fact that she could not cast, she had learned a great deal about field medicine, and was able to be of use in the infirmary. She discovered that medicine appealed to her meticulous nature, and found herself becoming ever absorbed in her research. The medical internship was going smoothly, and as Kadowaki was both a licensed practitioner and a licensed field instructor, she was able to earn her PhD in field medicine from Garden, and at a record pace. She was already well-versed in basic lab work from her early years at Garden, and enjoyed the daily challenges that the new, more complicated work provided. Her and Kadowaki's work and research dealt mainly with the energy as a symbiont, a healing mechanism, but Quistis' own independent investigations had more to do with the nature of the energy itself. Since her near death experience and her work on the poison counters used by the Neo-Sorceress Adel, Quistis found herself particularly curious about the energy she had once so thoughtlessly channeled through her body. She had once regarded it as she would a thunderbolt or a tsunami- with respect, but with no real curiosity to its origins. Now, however, it was constantly in her thoughts. After all, she carried reminders of its destructive potential every day, burned into her body and carved into her arms.

As with most things of potentially great power, most were happy to use it without thought to its origins, walking barefoot in a garden among gods. Quistis, however, was no longer content without answers, and now tread lightly in anticipation of what she might find, whether out of fear or excitement she couldn't say.

There were few papers of any merit on the scientific properties of mag energy, or Mako, as Hojo had coined it. Most of it was concentrated in ancient, sacred texts, and held little applicable value to Quistis' research. The rest dealt mainly in utilitarian contexts- its application to weaponry and medicine- its control, its restraint, but not its very nature. She supposed she could seek out Odine, but Odine was no longer keen on collaborating with SeeDs, even ex-SeeDs, and was currently under lock and key at the Esthar Mental Health Facility. In her initial desire to, as her thesis, research GF's and their gradual but devastating effects on their hosts, Quistis had found herself arriving at the most basic of questions, and finding very few places to develop answers. She had wound up at the beginning, trying to string one and one together and winding up with air.

Although Hojo's visit had cost her a few pounds of flesh, she now had a new set of questions to address with Kadowaki, hopefully ones that would bring better answers. As much as she hated the idea of being an exchange for land rights, she reasonably concluded that she could either look at the situation as a torment, or as an opportunity to further her research. In truth, it was both, but the unpleasant part being over for now, she was left with the opportunity.

She stood unsteadily as the plane landed, trying to ease the kinks out of her spine. She wore a pair of loose khakis and a similarly loose white sweater, owing to the bandage on her inner thigh and an ever-present desire to cover up the scars on her arms. After dealing with Hojo, being a human pincushion, and flying with Selphie, the only bright spot Quistis could find in the entire EuGen mission, besides a new research opportunity, was the bonus of being able to visit her friend on the way back.

"Get out here, Quisty!" Selphie shouted back. "I'm going to do a sea landing and meet you there!"

Quistis readily agreed, and hopped down as the hatch opened, the Ragnarok's engines quickly shredding her braid. Trying to pat her now loose hair down, she walked towards the orphanage, the wind tangling in her sweater and sticking her hair to her lips.

Rinoa had done wonders with the landscaping- beautiful, bright flowers bloomed along newly lain cobblestone pathways, swaying in the salt breeze. She could feel the sea air on her skin, and it felt like the embrace of an old friend. She had always felt compelled to this place…she suspected they all were, in a way.

Returning here always felt a little strange- a little pride and a little pain prickling in her heart, mixing with the nostalgia. She couldn't explain it- perhaps it was the memory of Time Compression that now laced with her childhood memories- the universe condensed to a flower field and the thrum of her heart in her ears. Time Compression was one among many memories she didn't care to dredge up. The feeling of being reduced to a single, lost soul, a compact of painful memories searching for release and eventually tumbling into a flower field, shattered, was not among her favorites.

Still, she thought it was odd that her journey should end there, in the flower field, which had no intrinsic meaning for her…that her mind should yawn open to such a pretty and peaceful place and feel only terror.

She had not been to the flower field since that fateful day…there was something solid about that place, something real and hard and heavy, that she could neither quantify nor face, even after almost five years.

Shaking off old nostalgia and spitting hair out of her mouth, she walked towards the water, raising her hand in greeting as the children jogged to meet her.

The Magitek had grown since she had last saw them- the salt air and the care of two women that knew the darker side of magic had apparently done wonders, for their faces seemed brighter, more open. It was always haunting to look at them at first, to try to glimpse the child behind the metal graft and the residual scars from the mag poisoning. Quistis smiled and patted the shoulder of Celes, a pretty girl with blue eyes and a prosthetic arm, even as she ruffled Darvis' hair, her hand brushing against a metal graft. Half-children, half scars. She wondered, not for the first time, if they slept well at night. She wouldn't.

_She didn't._

Two dogs danced in the water, barking as they ran towards her: Angelo, and her daughter, Seraphim, who, like Styx, had grown to be much larger than her mother. Within minutes, Quistis had wet paw prints on her sweater, and sand on her cheeks.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Rinoa had managed to keep Angelo and Cerberus' puppies within the group. After all, Seifer had pointed out, who else would take them? There had been two other puppies, each equally as massive as the other. Zell and Ceres had gotten one, and Zell's mother now had one for 'extra protection'. So far, she hadn't heard of any lawsuits or behemoth sightings in the area, so she supposed the progeny wasn't a complete threat to all sentient life, as Seifer had once theorized. Although Seifer and Cerberus had come to tolerate each other's company (which meant Cerberus didn't try to take off any of his limbs, and Seifer warily petted him on occasion), she had heard Seifer muttering to himself more than once about the puppies being the new four horsemen of the apocalypse.

Quistis straightened up from petting the dogs, trying to wipe the slobber from her cheeks with her sweater sleeve. Edea was the last to greet her, her long and graying hair twisted back in a long, winding braid. When Edea embraced her, her body seemed thinner…her eyes, older. The Magitek children looked to Edea as Quistis and her fellow orphans had looked to her- with adoration and the desperate need for stability. Sadly, Quistis had the feeling that the children could expect the same fate as they. When they grew of age, Quistis had little doubt that they would end up at Garden. Though children, they were also miniature weapons, and at Garden, they could be protected, managed…controlled. It was a bittersweet thought, that a military academy was the safest home these children could hope to end up in.

After chatting by the water for a bit, she promised to return later and headed for the house, where she had it on good authority a sorceress could be found.

It had been Rinoa's decision to move in with Edea, to help with the children. This way, she said, she would not be in the way, and would not be anyone's liability. Quistis wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that she did not want to be _Xu's_ liability. Although the two women were conceivably on the 'same side', they were as different as night and day, and there was a constant tension around them that Quistis believed had less to do with Rinoa's sorceress ability and more to do with a simple personality conflict.

_Is that you, sister?_

Quistis winced at the intrusion into her mind, the invasion sharp like a proboscis stab. Whether Rinoa knew it or not, in the last few years she had begun to reach out to her first with her magic, _then_ with her physical voice. Quistis had learned to brace herself for the 'welcoming'- a sharp sting with the cold chill of an ice water bath. It appeared that Rinoa only welcomed her this way, and not the others, and Quistis had no wish to mention or make issue of it, perhaps because it implied Rinoa was not as in control of herself as they call hoped. She shook off the shock, and continued towards the doorway, her mind still ringing like a plucked harp string.

"Is that you, Quistis? Come on in!" Rinoa's cheery voice sounded from the kitchen. She could smell cookies- a mixture of chocolate and peanut butter that rushed at her nose as soon as she entered. Quistis remembered her own attempts to cook well enough, a series of adventures with various small fires and poor knife usage before she had the sense to admit defeat and to leave the job to Rajin, who did wonderful and mysterious things with fish. Seifer was no better in cooking than she, and had once tried to julienne vegetables with his limit break after cutting himself several times.

There were still tomatoes on the ceiling.

As she walked in, she remembered one particular story of her ill fate in the kitchen, a favorite of Rajin's and what had come to be known as the "Sea Bass Incident." Seifer, despite having terrible luck at fishing, had brought back a large fish to clean- outside, she could hear Rajin telling him "doing it wrong, ya know" and Seifer swearing loudly at him. By the time Seifer entered the house, he was covered in fish guts and had a sour look on his face. He had slammed the ill-fated creature down on the counter before walking into the bathroom, muttering to himself.

It only got worse from there.

She had _tried_ to cook it, but the oil and butter in the pan had somehow caught fire, turning the fish an unappealing charcoal color. In a panicked attempt to salvage it, she had buried it in herbs and thrown it in the oven where it had…turned blacker. Throwing up her hands, she had showered the icthyian corpse with bread crumbs and hoped for the best.

Dinner was a thoroughly unpleasant affair. Seifer was already in a terrible mood, and Quistis was still stinging over her shortcomings in the kitchen. Each tried to blame the other for the disaster. Seifer had stubbornly insisted that the fish was properly cleaned, while she had insisted that the fish was just 'thoroughly cooked'. Rajin sat on the other end of the table, trying to choke down each mouthful with silent deliberation and a kind of quiet sheepishness that reminded Quistis of a small child watching his parents fight.

Still glaring at Seifer, Quistis took a bite- and nearly threw up. The first layer of flavor consisted of burnt, with the second and third layers being scales and bones. Seifer took one bite, and promptly spit it out onto his plate.

She wasn't sure who started laughing first, but it was contagious. Afterwards, they went out to eat.

_At Chips, among the fish netting and lacquered tables, picking at her food._ _She felt Seifer's eyes on her throughout the meal, and as Rajin got up for his fourth helping, Seifer sat back in the seat, causing an undignified and very un-Sefier-like squeak. _

"_What the hell is wrong with you? You've been quiet all night. Aren't you going to yell at Rajin for chewing with his mouth open? Fuck, he's like your adopted kid or something. You should just get him a booster seat and be done with it."_

_She picked up her plastic fork, glaring up at him before returning to her plate, mumbling at the fish filet._

"_What, is this about the wrecked fish?" he leaned forward, chuckling. "'Cause, honestly, you've cooked a _**lot**_ worse than that."_

_She glared at him. "You're **such** an asshole," she snapped, punching him in the shoulder, grabbing her purse, and stalking out the door._

"**_Wha-at_**_?" he muttered, walking out after her. Fortunately, Seifer had paid ahead, so Rajin was free to continue his complete destruction of the Christina's Friday Night Fish Fry Special. "Hyne, does PMS last ALL fucking month?"_

_Quistis kept walking, ignoring him. But she couldn't outrun him. Seifer's long stride carried him ahead of her, and in no time, he had two hands braced on her shoulders, keeping her from going any further._

_"What. Is. It?"_

_She looked up, and to her horror, her eyes were burning. "I'm terrible in the kitchen."_

_Seifer took a step back, rolling his eyes. "Hyne. And here I thought it was the end of the world."_

_Her expression must have crumpled, however, because he sighed. "Look, I'm shit in the kitchen, too. What's the big deal?"_

_It had made perfect sense in her head, but now, it seemed childish and trivial. "It's…"_

_But a slow, steady smile was spreading across Seifer's face. "Wait, wait….I forgot! You're Quistis Trepe! You're perfect! Not a hair out of place, everything you touch turns to-"_

"_It's not-" she began heatedly, but…that was _**exactly** _what it was. _

_Growing up, she'd had no family, no parents to single her out as theirs and celebrate her every small accomplishment. And so she'd tried to single _**herself** _out, with the thought that if she was noticed, she might be loved. She was Quistis Trepe, yes, but that was a name given to her by a set of parents she couldn't remember, and it had no meaning, no strength to draw from…and the family she could remember had given her nothing but regrets. If she failed, what could she fall back on? There was no Ma Dincht to take her…there was no happy home waiting for her just around the corner. If she wasn't perfect, who was she? What **good** was she?_

"_Quistis…" said Seifer seriously, taking her by the shoulders. "Allow me to at last relieve you of the burden and tedium of utter perfection."_

_She looked up at him, the beginnings of a frown beginning to knit her eyebrows. He knew their height difference irritated her, and moved closer, towering over her, and very solemnly began to do just as he promised._

"_You can't handle criticism, for one thing." He said gravely. "You've always been shit with fire magic, and you drive worse than a dead grandmother." He paused, no doubt collecting more flaws, then spoke up again, his voice as severe as ever. "That peach shit you're always wearing reminds me of a band-aid. Rajin keeps having to buy new shirts because you fuck up the white and the colors every time. You're useless in the kitchen, and, quite frankly, what you do manage _**not** _to burn still tastes like shit."_

_Her heart had sunk somewhere into her stomach, and was now working on pooling at her feet._

"_And," he added, tilting her chin up so that she could see that he was trying not to laugh, "I'm glad."_

"_You…what?"_ _She was torn between fury and frustration._

"_Yeah, I'm glad." He replied. "Hell, otherwise, you'd be a real pain in the ass." And then he did laugh. She tried to frown at him, but, oddly…no one had ever given her a better compliment, and she found herself smiling, instead, shaking her head at him._

_"Feel better now?" he asked. "**Now** can you remove that annoying stick out of your ass?"_

_She hit at him, smiling, even as he gathered her into his arms. _

_"_**Now** _can we go home?" he spoke into her hair, his lips brushing against her ear._

_If she wasn't perfect…who was she? _

_The girl he was looking at. The girl he wanted to take home._

"_Yes," she replied, smiling, "Take me home."_

Theirs was certainly a strange family, as she had come to call it- one ex-SeeD, one fisherman, one ex-knight, two overgrown mutts and an ornery chocobo. But it was still family…the first real one she'd had.

Quistis shook herself out of her nostalgia and set her bag down on one of the hall tables. Rinoa didn't seem to have any trouble with cooking, if the smells coming from the kitchen were any indication. Rinoa, salt of the earth, mother incarnate. Quistis quickly quashed the somewhat bitter thought and walked into the kitchen, putting on her best smile.

"Guess who's here!" she heard Rinoa whisper excitedly. Quistis' smile grew, and she braced herself for what was coming.

"Aunty Kisty! Aunty Kisty!" Little footsteps thundered in the kitchen, and Quistis' knees were soon assaulted by a very enthusiastic ball of energy. Quistis smiled, looking down at the figure wrapped around her legs. Black hair, bright smile, and a pair of wide eyes, staring happily up at her.

"Zack!" she exclaimed, smiling, pretending to be shocked.

Zack, a surprise that occurred almost directly after Rinoa and Squall's wedding, was now two years old and the spitting image of his mother, save for the eyes, which were unmistakably Squall's. He was a beautiful child, with Rinoa's dark features and Squall's sea-blue eyes. He had his mother's easygoing disposition, and a mischievous streak that both Rinoa and Squall tried to blame on each other. Of all his 'Aunts' and 'Uncles', Rinoa confided that Seifer and Quistis were his favorite ('don't tell Ellone, though!').

Quistis knew immediately why Seifer was his favorite- he poured sugar into the already energetic child at every opportunity in an attempt to annoy Squall, with fair success. Seifer also taught the child everything fun that your parents didn't want you to figure out, like how to pick a lock and how to start fires with a magnifying glass. Seifer had also taught Zack how to make a sling shot, after which Rinoa threatened to hex off the protruding parts of his body. Quistis had no idea why Zack liked _her_ so much, though- it wasn't as if she smelled like candy or that she was maternal in any aspect that she could recognize within herself. Narrowing her eyes, she gave her sleeve a quick sniff. No candy scent.

"Uppie!" demanded Zack, clapping his hands.

Grinning, she picked up Zack, giving him a squeeze and feeling a low, foreign ache in her belly that felt a little like longing. "Hey! How's my favorite nephew!"

Zack wrinkled his nose as he stared up at her, not won over. "_Only_ nephew!" he exclaimed petulantly.

_The kid was too smart for his own good._

"Well, even if I had lots, you'd still be my favorite." She replied, smiling and setting him down.

Zack smiled back at her, his blue eyes wide and bright with excitement. "Come, Aunty Kisty, come see mommy! Fat!"

Rinoa put her hands on her hips and gave her son a frown. "Zak, is that any way to talk about your mother?" she teased. The boy giggled as she tickled him.

But Zack wasn't lying. The sorceress was only two months pregnant, but showing every inch of it. The little wisp of a woman had already rounded out, although, if her recovery after Zack was any indication of this one, she would go right back to being as skinny as ever. Years ago, Quistis would have been hard pressed to imagine Squall as a father, but she found that the reality of it was not so strange. When he was off duty, Squall was a good father- he was loving and always patient with the little boy. The two often spent hours building sandcastles together, or stargazing. Quistis tried to imagine Seifer in the role of father- it was a difficult thing to imagine.

Rinoa's hair had grown in the past two years, and she wore it loose to her waist, pinned at the end by a mother of pearl barrette that Squall had bought for her, long ago. Her pale face had filled out a little with her pregnancy, flushing her cheeks and lighting her eyes in a healthy glow- she was beginning to resemble Edea, in an eerie way. Otherwise, the girl remained unchanged- her eyes were bright and her aura jubilant as ever. Rinoa put down her baking mits, embracing Quistis in a fierce hug. Her stomach was hard and awkward between them, and Quistis shut her eyes for an instant at the contact. They were so close that, for a moment, the stomach could have been hers. She quickly pulled away and smiled down at her friend.

"Sit down! I'm so happy that you and Selphie could come!" Rinoa looked around her. "Where _is_ Selphie?"

"Docking the Ragnarok on the coast, then saying hello to Edea, I think," replied Quistis, taking a seat. Zack instantly scrambled into her lap, making himself at home as he pressed his small hands down onto the table cloth, playing with the patterns. "How is Edea doing? She seems…different."

Rinoa's expression was sad. "She _is_ different….distant. I can't explain it, really. Without Cid…now that the sorceress has left her, sometimes her mind tries to return to it…but it's a locked door now, an empty room. There are times when I see her look lost, as if she's tried to take a step that's disappeared. I understand how she feels, except…well…my doors…lead to others."

Quistis remembered Rinoa's rooms all too well, having glimpsed them herself. It was strange to see her there, in the kitchen, wearing baking mits and playing house, when she had the heart of a large and unstable star beating in her breast. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Rinoa was a sorceress, with all the normalcy she and Squall were surrounding themselves with.

A sudden rumble caused them all to fall silent. The kitchen plates began to rattle in the cupboard, and somewhere in the living room, something fragile broke. Rinoa and Quistis exchanged a look, then quickly held down everything within reach. A plate began to slip to the floor, but Rinoa glanced at it, stalling it into a hover.

"Earth shake!" exclaimed Zack, his eyes big, gripping Quistis' arm.

Just as quickly as it had come, it passed, and Zack sat up straight in Quistis' lap, no worse for wear.

"Another earthquake..." mused Quistis.

"That's the second one this month," replied Rinoa. "And the last one wasn't so little. The tide nearly reached the house, and that was with _me_ here."

The earthquakes, which were nothing new at Edea's house and certainly nothing new in Balamb, had been happening more frequently lately, much to the confusion of resident scientists. The quakes ranged from small to medium, and were mostly an inconvenience in Balamb, occasionally jarring loose some wiring. On the small island, quakes were much more than an inconvenience…they were dangerous.

"Squall's talking about moving, if these keep up." Rinoa's expression quickly broke into a smile. "But let's talk about happier things! Who wants cookies?"

"Me!" shouted Zack, raising his hand.

"Me!" echoed Quistis, imitating her 'nephew'.

Within moments, the trio had a plate of cookies in front of them and tall glasses of milk to go with them. Zack happily shoveled cookies into his mouth as the two young women talked. Rinoa told her about the Magitek's progress, and the changes she had made at the orphanage, while Quistis told her about Hojo, and the new contracts at Garden, as well as her latest in biomedical research with Kadowaki.

"Hojo is a _creep_," said Rinoa, disgustedly, shoving a cookie into her mouth. She chewed, holding up her finger before she finished. "Months ago, Hojo tried to go through Squall to get some 'samples'- said that a sorceress would be a fascinating 'specimen' to have and offered some land rights in exchange. Squall wanted to kill him, but Xu was more…diplomatic, I guess. She found something else to trade." Rinoa shook her head. "I'm sorry that it was you."

Quistis shrugged. "I'm no good as a SeeD anymore. I suppose Xu had to find some use for me." It came out more bitter than she had intended it.

Rinoa shook her head. "That was…unfair of her. But in her defense, I don't think Xu would understand why you and I were upset. Bodies are….commodities to her, I think, not something personal. She's very _practical_."

Quistis smiled. "Hm. You're being diplomatic."

Rinoa smiled. "Yes," she admitted. "Xu and I are very different people." A sudden mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "Would you like me to kill Hojo? I _am_ a Sorceress, you know. It's one of the perks of having me as a friend."

Quistis laughed uneasily. "I'll let you know."

The young sorceress patted her belly, leaning back in her chair. "She's restless, this one."

"Sister," echoed Zack, solemnly, pointing to his mother's stomach.

"You can feel it…already? You know what it is?"

"Yep! I don't know how to explain it. I felt Zack, too…I wonder if it's because of what I am?"

"Sorceress Rinoa…all powerful ultrasound," joked Quistis.

The two women smiled. Although they tried to make light of Rinoa's sorceress status, it was a constant, serious concern for everyone in the group. Mostly, they tried not to talk about it, with varying success, the same way they all avoided talking about the Second and Third Sorceress wars. The wars might never have happened at all, were it not for the battle scars they carried beneath their clothes and the dreams that kept them awake at night. In Rinoa's case, it seemed to Quistis that the entire situation was like having a tea party in the living room while a Tsunami gathered outside the window. In the shared spirit of ignoring the problem, Quistis took another cookie and decided to change the subject.

Zack wriggled on her lap, his mouth smeared with chocolate as he turned to press his hands against her cheeks. "Aunty Kisty! Come play outside! Go swim!"

Rinoa shook her head at her son. "Not now, sweetie. It's grown-up talk time."

Zack furrowed his small brow and slunk lower in Quistis' lap, pouting. He hated grown-up talk time.

Quistis smiled, wetting her finger and wiping off the boy's face, which was smeared with chocolate chip residue and peanut butter crumbs. Then she set to work on combing through his hair, which always seemed to be too long and stuck in several different directions. "Tell you what. After I'm done talking with your mom, I'll go outside with you and go swimming. Then we can have a story before I go, okay?"

The two year old pretended to consider. "Ooookay," he said slowly. "Promise?" Promises were big with Zack…he probably got that from his father.

"Promise!" replied Quistis.

"Ok! Momma, I go 'side!"

Rinoa frowned. "All right. With Nanna." 'Nanna' was Edea…it looked as if the woman was doomed to be matronly for life. Judging from the way Edea embraced her 'grandson', however, it seemed that Edea didn't mind her title at all. Quistis and Rinoa watched protectively from the window as the little boy ran down to the beach, making sure he wasn't waylaid by anything dangerous.

Rinoa squinted at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Quisty, Zack got chocolate on you." Reaching for a dish rag, she wiped at her friend's cheeks. "He just _loves_ you." Grimacing, Quistis tolerated the mothering gesture, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. Smiling, Rinoa set down the rag and admired her work. "All clean! You know, you'd be a good mother, Quisty," said Rinoa seriously, as the two women returned to their seats.

Quistis gave her an uneasy smile.

Rinoa put her head in her hands, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, it must be these stupid hormones-"

"It's all right," she stammered, caught off guard. "It's just not…Seifer…"

"I smell cookies!" Selphie's voice, from the doorway, a welcome relief from the conversation's current direction.

The three women spent the afternoon at the beach, drinking iced tea and eating Edea's sandwiches. True to her promise, Quistis borrowed an old swim suit from Rinoa (which was a little too revealing for her liking and rather small on her longer frame) and spent a good hour chasing Zack through the surf, building sand castles with him and the other children and comforting a tearful Zack when the tide rolled in. ("Sea eat house! Sea eat house!") As a consolation, she told the boy a story about a very funny Marlboro fight that happened years ago with one cantankerous ex-knight. It was one of Zak's favorite stories, particularly when she got to the end ( 'Icky plant go BOOM!'). Having survived the loss of Castle Zack, he fell asleep in her arms, wrapped in a beach blanket and his breath puffing softly against her arm, as steady as the sea.

Edea glanced back at the pair of women lounging on the blanket, both silently staring out to sea. Rinoa's raven hair was spilled out on the blanket, Quistis' dark golden locks tangled in the breeze. Light and dark. Not for the first time, Edea marveled at the fact that they had become friends. Though both beautiful and loyal women, Quistis and Rinoa were as different as night and day- Rinoa was sweet and passionate, and Quistis was practical, dependable. Rinoa hung back, and Quistis walked calmly forward. Rinoa looked to others, and Quistis waited for no one. Such different women, women once destined to misunderstand each other. Rinoa had adored Quistis- Edea could see it in the young sorceress's eyes, and Quistis had held envy in equal parts to her friend's adoration. Both emotions were equally unhealthy, but somehow this did not seem to damage the course of their relationship. Something had happened, two years ago- Quistis' cold shoulder had warmed to Rinoa, and the two had quickly become very close.

_Thank Hyne for small wonders. They will need this bond, down the road._

Edea stared down at her open hand, quickly curling it as a phantom pain wormed through her limbs- an echo of the disease that once held her. Old ghosts still churned in her, it seemed- her cells still housed whispers of a guest long passed. Edea turned sadly from the pair, bringing her fist to her heart as she rejoined Selphie, and the children, a smile quickly lighting up her face as she reached them.

…

_...._

……_._

_._

_The cafeteria was cold and dark, with only the heartbeat thrum of the cooling system and the purr of the generators to break the silence. A few lights in the kitchen still cast a dim glare over the pale floors of the cafeteria. Chairs scraped loudly as they took their seats._

_Xu was already waiting, her hands folded on the tabletop and her expression somber. "You know why I called you here."_

_Irvine was leaning back in his chair, his arm resting along the back of Selphie's shoulders and his long legs crossed. Zell was leaning forward, his foot tapping impatiently, and both Quistis and Seifer were both sitting with their arms folded. They were all unified in looking uncomfortable._

_Xu was not a part of the original 'heroes'…and, as such, did not understand the code of silence they had all come to respect. The first and second sorceress war they had fought had brought with them the necessity of doing and enduring horrible things, things that were impossible to drag through every day life. They carried them silently, buried down in the darkness of repression, and allowed them to resurface only in the throes of nightmares and in rare moments of weakness. The old memories were part of an old life, a different life- one that could not coexist in times of peace._

_Squall and Rinoa were pointedly absent- those that sat before Xu felt their absence keenly, like a quiet betrayal._

_Xu sighed, seeing that none of them were going to begin the discussion. "We can't afford not to talk about this, and you all know it."_

"_What are we supposed to do about it?" retorted Zell, folding his arms. "Send Rinoa back out to space?"_

_Xu rolled her eyes. "That isn't what I'm saying, and you know it."_

"_Ultimecia **was** the future. We destroyed her in the past…wait….no, it was the present. Hell, it was Time Compression. When the hell was it?" Irvine_ _frowned. "The point is, Ultimecia hasn't happened yet, or she won't. Odine said himself, during Time Compression, all the times were one, so maybe killing her then was like killing her in all times."_

_Selphie shook her head. "I don't think that's what he meant. We went back to her time, when she was from the future, so she hasn't happened yet. She would need to have happened for us to destroy her."_

"_What do you mean, she hasn't happened yet? Didn't we kill her already, so, theoretically, she didn't happen?" asked Zell._

"_Selphie means she hasn't been formed yet," replied Quistis. "And yet…the lineage of Sorceresses….was Ultimecia the first, or the last….or both?" She paused. "She came from the future, so if we destroyed her in time compression, did we destroy her completely?"_

_Zell was rubbing his temples, muttering._

"_When you killed Ultimecia, you didn't end or begin anything. The surest sign that you completely obliterated the succession would obviously be the complete absence of any sorceress in any time- but we have Rinoa. The succession didn't die with Ultimecia….it's part of a circle. There are more scattered through time...different pieces. To completely destroy the succession, you'd have to concentrate it into one host, and destroy the host."_

_Everyone turned to look at Seifer. It was the first time he had spoken._

"_Yeah, but we did that," replied Irvine. "There's that hyne-damned succession…it goes on no matter what you do. There can only be one Sorceress in any age, right?"_

"_And what do you mean 'it'?" joined Xu._

"_I don't believe that there can be only one Sorceress in an age. I think each Sorceress wanted to believe that." Seifer shook his head. "And as for 'it'…even I don't know. It's…pieces of something, the thing that makes a sorceress. I mean with Adel, with Ultimecia, they were just hosts, just mouthpieces, the same way Rinoa is. It's like an echo, it takes on the voices of the men and women that have held it, but it isn't any one of them…it's something else."_

_There, in Adel's mind, in Galbadian Garden, it had stirred, spoke, and the voice was not Adel's…_

**_Adel? Who is Adel? I am the Mother Dark…_**

_Everyone looked at Seifer. "How do you know that?" asked Xu._

_Seifer rolled his eyes. "How the fuck do you think? Because when Ultimecia…when…whatever it was linked up our minds, I could hear thousands of voices…hosts that the legacy or whatever it is had jumped through over the years, places it had spread itself out to and returned. She put some of it in me, but it was only enough to connect us. Before the legacy left her, she took it back. It isn't true exactly that there can be only one sorceress….the disease, the curse, whatever the hell it is, can dilute itself, can spread itself out as thin as it wants to, to survive. That's why there were lesser Sorceresses near Ultimecia's castle."_

_Xu raised an appreciative eyebrow at Seifer. It was a valuable thing, having an old knight present to provide perspective._

"_So what, it's like a disease?" Irvine_ _frowned._

_Seifer shrugged. "Don't know. I just know there were….gaps. You could feel it in Adel, in Ultimecia. The process of separating weakens whatever it is, but when there's a threat targeting the host, it's an advantage. That's how it's survived this long. But there's only ever one core- one single being that embodies the core. Right now, that's Rinoa. No matter what, the power always wants to return to one host, to reunite with the rest of itself. It's not complete until it does. Rinoa is only the core. If all the…pieces were to reunite, Rinoa would be lost. Rinoa can live in the gaps, for now."_

"_So, you're saying that Rinoa will eventually combine the pieces?"_

"_A part of her wants to. But, as long as she's grounded to Squall, as long as she can retreat into his head, she can fight it."_

_Zell frowned. "Was Ultimecia…was she the whole thing?"_

_Seifer shook his head. "I don't think so. Almost. She had ahold of the thing, but just barely."_

"_So if what you're saying is true…" said Irvine_ _slowly. "If it ever all unites, we're fucked."_

"_This is all one big **mind**fuck," muttered Zell, making a face._

"_I don't get it," said Selphie, shoveling a handful of chips into her mouth. "I rewy fawt der coudongy be un forferus ag a pwime."_

_Strangely, everyone understood her._

_Quistis shrugged. "The other sorceresses we fought seemed…lesser…like polyps that Ultimecia conjured up. Extensions…the way Adel infected and controlled the Galbadian troops…like what Seifer was saying."_

"_What, you mean like clones?"_

"…_something like that. Maybe there's…like Seifer said, some sort of core in the sorceress…like a nerve center that can't be divided. The rest…maybe the rest can be."_

_Selphie swallowed her mouthful. "But Adel and Rinoa existed at the same time, two years ago-"_

"_-and remember how sick Rinoa got? She drew Adel's poison off Cid, and her magic was out of control…she only went back to normal after Adel was dead."_

"_It's like a disease," said Irvine, thoughtfully. "A disease they transmit to each other."_

"_Then Ultimecia could be anyone, down the line." Reasoned Selphie. "Maybe we destroyed the original."_

_Xu rolled her eyes. "Surely it escaped no one's notice that Ultimecia's GF was Griever."_

_Everyone looked uncomfortable at that._

_Quistis was frowning. "Ultimecia would've snatched Griever out of Squall's mind. It was, to Squall, a symbol of power- it makes sense that she would've used it against him. The irony would have appealed to her."_

_Xu leaned forward. "You're all ignoring it, and it's right in front of your eyes. And I understand…but we can't afford to do this. Squall and Rinoa are living in a fairytale now, scavenging every available second of happiness they can. But **we** can't do that. We can't afford to turn our backs on this thing until it gets too big to handle. In the future…something happens." Xu said. "If Rinoa and Ultimecia are the same person, if Rinoa goes bad, do you really think Squall can do what has to be done? No. And Rinoa knows this, too, deep down." Xu curled her hands into fists. Whatever else I think of her, the girl knows what the future holds._

_Quistis felt something go cold inside her._

"**_Protect them. Protect him."_**

_Her friend's words, not long ago._

_It was as if she knew, even then…_

"_We're SeeD," said Xu evenly. "We have a purpose, and both Squall and Rinoa know that."_

"_Rinoa's our friend," spoke up Zell, a fierce look in his eyes. "And so is Squall. We can't ruin both of their lives because something might or might not happen."_

"_I agree," said Irvine_ _and Selphie._

_Xu sat back. "I'm not suggesting anything now. I'm simply pointing out that if you think that this is all just going to go away because we want it to….it isn't."_

"_So what do we do?"_

_Quistis sighed. "We wait," she said, simply. "We prepare for the worst and hope for the best."_

_Xu was shaking her head, but her friend knew she was outnumbered. Still, what else could they do?_

_We wait for the Armageddon._

_We enjoy this time of peace with our friends, and wait for the moment that we'll have to kill one or both of them._

…

…_.._

……

Quistis turned from watching Zack, seeming to come awake from a daydream whose details eluded her. She caught Rinoa's gaze across the blanket- her friend's smile just a little sad, before looking back out at the water. Selphie was talking with Edea, walking with the other children down the beach, and the young sorceress was lying next to her on the blanket, staring thoughtfully out to sea and drumming her fingers against the swell of her belly.

Quistis sighed. She loved her friend, dearly, and her time spent at the orphanage was precious to her, but there was nothing like visiting Rinoa to make her feel acutely aware of being childless, unmarried, and unsettled. It would seem that while all organs and possibilities had rendered these things away, that the parts of her mind that still ran to them had not been destroyed, but continued to produce hope in their absence, which was as useless as it was maddening.

Choking down the sigh that rose in her, she looked down at the sleeping little boy, brushing a lock of sandy black hair off of his forehead as he snuggled closer to her. Kissing his forehead, she joined her friend in staring out to sea, both of them dreaming very different dreams.

*

…

…..

….

…

It was damned hot.

Riding his bike provided a small amount of relief from the summer heat, but not enough to wipe away the sweltering feeling that had stuck with him throughout the last few days. His team had extended their stay to two days, pulling two all-nighters to finish the job. During the first, they had taken a G-mo equipped with floodlights through the sleeping city of Esthar, exterminating the more nocturnal vermin that crawled along the streets and sewers. They had actually finished the extermination ahead of schedule, and a pleased Laguna had given them a bonus. The second night they had spent on surveillance, trying to gather more information on the group the media had labeled only as 'EVE'.

Monster-hunting had proved fruitful, if not bloody, but the surveillance had proved boring as hell. He had gotten a few photographs of some of the members of 'the faction', that Xu was talking about, but he had gotten them trapped in a roach-infested motel room with a camera propped under the lip of a blood-splattered shutter. This group, whoever they were, were few, paranoid….and damned elusive.

Glyph was in the yard and bobbed his head in greeting, his blue plumage looking even darker under the moonlight.

He killed the engine and covered the bike with an old tarp. The bike was a birthday gift from Quistis and Rajin- Quistis had bought the thing at an auction, and Rajin had helped to fix it up. He knew that Quistis gave the gift with some reluctance- she still wasn't convinced that he wasn't going to break his neck and they'd had more than one argument about how he drove it. The compromise? He wore a helmet…when she was looking.

He removed said helmet and stuffed it under the tarp, turning back towards what he had come to call "The Sea Shack."

Home, sweet home.

Seifer looked to the boatshed, but there were no lights on. Both Rajin, Quistis, and Seifer had labored to change the boathouse attic from a seagull-infested shithouse into a living quarters, with amazing success given they knew shit about home improvement. Seifer had initially offered Rajin a place in the house, but Rajin had declined, saying it wouldn't 'feel right, ya know'. When Quistis had suggested fixing up the boathouse, Rajin had warmed to the idea, and now had a comfortable loft complete with a working bathroom and an attic space that opened to the ocean. In gaining Rajin as a roommate, Seifer had also gained someone to help with repairs, watch over the creatures while he and Quistis were gone, and have someone to talk to while Quistis was away. During the winter, Rajin shared the actual shed portion with Glyph, who sometimes slept indoors to escape the cold. It was a good set up, and both Rajin and Glyph seemed to enjoy it.

That was to say that at least the bird hadn't killed him yet.

Tired, hot and muddy, he trudged up the porch stairs, the screen door slamming shut behind him. He dropped his bag in the kitchen, peeling off his jacket and his shirt.

"Yo! I'm home!" Somehow, he never got tired of saying that.

No answer.

"Hey! Rajin! Quis!"

No Rajin. No Quistis. Rajin was probably out on the boats, and Quistis, well, who the hell knew.

Damnit.

Yawning, he peeled off his soaked white cotton undershirt, running his hands through his hair as he went to open a few of the windows. It was like a sauna in the old house, and the soft breeze that soon filtered in was an instant relief. Absently, he scratched at the old tattoo on his arm as he glanced around the house, briefly catching his reflection in the mirror. His skin was a mixture of beach tan, tattoos, and old scars, harsh in the soft light from the living room. Not for the first time, he concluded that he looked more like a damned drunken abstract painting than anything human. Quickly turning away from his reflection, he glanced down the hallway.

There were lights on…

"Quistis? Hey! Where the hell are you?"

No answer.

He scowled at the empty house. He was tired, horny, and hungry. Well, it wasn't like there weren't things he could do about all three, but some were more appealing than others.

He sighed and settled on the most appealing of the three, plodding to the fridge and pulling out some of the leftover jerk chicken Rajin had made the last time they'd all been home at the same time. Although Rajin was the last person he'd trust to defuse a bomb, he definitely worked wonders in the kitchen, which was good, because he and Quistis were useless. Sandwiching a hunk of chicken between a slice of bread, he dipped the entire thing in the jar of mayonnaise- 'instant sandwich'. Quistis called it an affront to civilization.

He was about to reach for a beer when he heard the sound of nails on linoleum, building up momentum as it progressed through the house. The whole structure rumbled like a bowling alley. Sighing, he braced himself, stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth to prevent it from being knocked to the ground from the inevitable collision. He had learned the hard way before.

Styx came around the corner first, nearly leveling him, with Cerberus hot on his heels, sliding on the hardwood floors and crashing into his legs. Every time he came home, he nearly got his neck broken by the damned things- they were like fucking boulders with fur. Quistis had remarked once that any intruder stood as good of a chance at being bowled over as they did being bitten, and he had to agree.

"Hyne! Stupid mutts! " he swore, as Styx licked at him, whining, whether out of affection or a desire to get at the mayonnaise on his lips. He managed to back up to the door, letting them spill outside to terrorize Glyph. He wasn't worried about the dogs, or Glyph- Glyph could probably eat the dogs and the damned mutts for some reason never ran away. He turned back to the house, wiping off his face with his shirt before throwing it on the floor. Silence once again. If the dogs were inside, though, Quistis was home. "Quistis?"

Where the hell was she? It wasn't as if she was a deep sleeper.

He found her in the dining room, which was in the far left corner of the house. There were a few caged lights hanging from the ceiling, and paint cans and newspapers were everywhere. She was painting in the corner, dragging a roller brush up and down the wall with purpose. She was wearing one of his old white undershirts, stuck to her with sweat and tied in a knot below her breasts, along with a pair of black panties that showed off the tanned mileage of her legs. The beach had definitely agreed with her this summer. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he leaned against the doorway, narrowing his eyes at the scene before him. Quistis didn't usually dress provocatively- when she did, it was either purely strategic or the brainchild of someone like Selphie, who seemed to think Quistis was her own life-sized doll. He could understand Quistis' attire tonight- it was damned hot. Her hair was tied back in a sloppy knot, revealing a pair of headphones and a small mp3 player clipped to the t-shirt's front. That would explain the lack of an answer.

They'd had an argument about the color to paint the room-namely, she cared, and he didn't. He told her to paint the damned thing day-glo orange, for all he cared. She had stormed off to the paint store alone, after chucking various color swatches at him like throwing stars.

She returned with red, and he had commented that it was going to look like a fucking slaughterhouse. She replied, with perfect calm, that it could very well become one if he didn't shut up.

Red it was.

Her influence could be seen throughout the house- Quistis was economical, and had a practical eye for what looked good. She had surprised both him and herself in being able to apply that perspective to home decoration. As a result, their house looked less like the run-down shack that it was and more like the Victorian beach house that it could be. Curtains with white eyelet had been strung along the old windows, (which billowed charmingly in the sea breeze), and several colorful throw rugs had been put down over the floors to cover up old stains in the wood. The kitchen had been thoroughly scrubbed and the attic aired, resulting in the house smelling more like cinnamon and old wood than raccoon shit and mildew. Her touch was everywhere in the house, from the small framed photos of friends that dotted every available surface, to the small scented candles and potted flowers that lined the windowsills. It was strange…when he looked around the house, he didn't see so much the decorations as just…her. He liked it.

It was only fitting…he had bought the house for her, even before he knew she was still alive. That she was actually able to share it with him was almost unreal. Even after two years, he still had to resist the urge to pinch himself…_hard_.

That wasn't to say it was a fairy tale. Living with her wasn't easy- in fact, nothing about their relationship had ever been _easy_, from the very beginning. Unlike Squall and Rinoa, whose relationship seemed to be snatched right out of the pages of a sappily-scripted love story, he and Quistis had pretty much just made theirs up as they went along. It wasn't like Prince Puberty and Princess Helpless…it was more like…the two dragons in the book that had decided to shack up together. She was stubborn as hell, and so was he- they had cosmic fights and great sex, and even, at times, moments of normalcy.

As high as sex with Quistis was on the list of things he liked, he found to his surprise that some of his favorite times with her involved just sitting around, watching television with her feet propped up on his lap and trying to catch popcorn in their mouths, or taking walks by the beach- it was normal, it was what other people had and what he'd never had before. Sometimes the whole thing seemed like a page out of someone else's life. There were times that he thought he was still in time compression, that he had never woken up….but Time Compression had been a nightmare intermixed with dreams, and this? This was like…just dreaming.

He grinned at her progress.

Red paint was splattered on the papers, and on her. A smudge on her thigh, streaks in her hair, on her cheek. There was even one on her ass, where she must have leaned back to admire her work, and forgotten herself. Now, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, blowing out her cheeks as she stared up at the ceiling. There was now a thin trail of paint on her neck where her fingertips had connected.

_Red_.

He gripped the doorway harder, seized by something inescapable.

_There was too much blood. Holding her in the rain, blood on her hair, blood in her mouth…her arms flayed open like a fish, bubbling blood onto the ground with every feeble beat of her heart…and he was sure that she was almost dead, because nobody could lose that much blood, and live…_

_Wake up…wake up…_

He blinked. She hummed something off key and dipped the roller again, rolling on a second coat of paint across the corner's ceiling. He realized that he had a death grip on the doorway and straightened up, his heart hammering in his ears.

_Quistis, alive. Painting. Waiting up for him. _

_Get it together, Almasy. Fuck. It's been years._

He shook his head, trying to scatter the thoughts as he walked into the room. She had the music on loud- he could hear it all the way from the doorway. He snuck up behind her and placed his hands over her eyes, and she stiffened immediately, her elbow jerking just slightly in reaction. It was a reflex born of years of hyper-vigilance, an ever-present ghost of her training that still haunted her veins. He knew she wouldn't kill him, though, and waited. Recognition sparked in her- his hands, the weight of the form behind her. If her training had taught her vigilance, it had also taught her to recognize an ally from an enemy in very little time. The tension eased from her shoulders, quickly, melting back into his hands like butter. He moved one hand to her ear phones, peeling them off. "Guess who," he murmured, his voice a low and welcome timbre in that warmed the shell of her ear.

She smiled, slowly. "Shhh. We'll have to make this quick. My boyfriend will be home soon."

"Funny." He pressed his lips to her neck. Raspberries, sweat and pain thinner….he was pretty sure she'd still smell good to him if she rolled in a landfill. "Where's Rajin?" As much as Rajin was like a brother to him, that didn't mean he wanted him seeing his girlfriend half-naked.

Quistis set down the roller. "Overnight trip," she replied, turning to face him and winding her arms around his neck. He smiled down at her, unwinding her hair from the clip until it fell like a golden sheath down to her hips. He combed through the paint and plaster- he loved her hair, especially down. It was like a sheet of silk against his fingers. She was wearing an enigmatic little smile. He suddenly wished she was wearing less. "What are you smiling about?" he asked.

"Shirtless." She replied, tracing a finger along his collarbone, causing fire to race along his spine. "It's a good look for you."

"Funny," he replied. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

She raised an eyebrow, then obligingly raised her arms as he peeled the shirt over her head. "Better?" she asked, and flushed, and he thought it was cute that she could still be embarrassed, just a little. But that was Quistis- sexy and proper and just a little prudish.

He looked down, admiring the view. Her hands were full of paint, and the brush of her knuckles left red streaks underneath her breasts.

_Red. Red and Rain. Fuck._

"Much," he ground out, hefting her into his arms, her bare skin hot and slick against his as he crushed his mouth to hers, a bit harsher than he meant to. Her legs hooked around his hips even as his palms pressed against his back, leaving hand prints like a pair of smudged crimson wings on his shoulder blades. She opened her mouth, and he lost no time in deepening the kiss, grinding his hips against her as he clutched her closer, wanting her closer, _needing_ her closer.

All of the exhaustion of the past week seemed to fade away. Being knee deep in mud and rain, hacking at a swarm of grats as their yellow blood splashed across his sword and face, sleeping on the hard ground with monster blood crusting to his skin, running surveillance for 36 hours straight, stupid with sleep deprivation, all of it vanished with the feeling of holding her, feeling her shift, hearing her breath wash heavy against his neck. Her legs squeezed his waist, hard, and he swore, tightening his grip on her thighs and backing them both into the wall, trying to bring some relief to the hard and unrelenting ache that had concentrated itself just south of his stomach.

He moved to undo his pants one-handed as she kissed him, hungrily, pushing his pants down with her free hand as she ground against him. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and crushed his mouth to hers again, trailing his other hand over her breasts. Her legs were hooked around him, her nails in his back, and his world condensed to her breath, loud and shuddering in his ears, and the slick, electric friction between their bodies.

He moved to push aside her underwear as she bit his lower lip, and then- stopped. "Shit," she hissed.

"What?" he rasped, raising his head at her uncharacteristically dirty language.

Suddenly, she burst into laughter. It took a moment for him to see what was wrong, then-

"Shit." He relaxed his grip on her, and she slid down, still laughing.

It was the wall with the wet paint on it. Most of Quistis' hair and back was now a burnt red color, and was combining with sweat to drip down her legs. She turned in a circle, shaking her head at both the marks on her and the marks she'd left on the wall, which would have to be redone. Paint was dripping from her hands as she tried to wring it from her hair. She was laughing, but he nearly shivered at the sight of it…it was making him sick.

_Her hands dangled at her side, head slumped back against the crease of his elbow. Metal was embedded in her cheeks and hands, and her uniform was ripped almost completely open, blood stained and burned. Blood poured from her mouth, dribbled onto her breasts before it was diluted by the rain…her arms were open, a mess of veins and blood and muscle-_

_She was dying, she was dying, and he couldn't do anything-_

A hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

Quistis, living, breathing, half-naked, and covered in paint, her smile fading as she took in his expression.

"Shower." He ground out, grabbing her hand, and all but dragging her up the stairs.

His ardor subdued, Seifer took great pains in washing every ounce of red paint from her body, till there was only the white of her skin, pure against the pale shower stall. She stayed still and watched him with an inscrutinable look on her face as he scrubbed at her, kneeling in the shower before her.

Red poured into the drain, swirling as it diluted with the water.

_Red and rain._

"Seifer, what-"

"It was…" He paused in scrubbing her, his hand flat against the muscle of her thigh. "There was so much blood…" he said, almost too softly for her to hear. "There was so much, and it just…you were…_fuck_…."

He didn't need to say anymore.

It was a terrifying thing, needing someone, so much that the very memory of their frailty ran cold like steel through you until their very existence in your life, their life's fire, seemed little more than a candle bobbing in a hurricane. Seifer was routinely seized by such a fear- that, like so many other things in his life, she would be taken from him.

If she had become his infrastructure…then she had also become his greatest weakness.

He shut his eyes against her thigh, kneeling before her as she stroked his hair, lukewarm water pouring over them both. Wanting her was easy. Needing her, as he had come to do in the past two years, was terrifying.

He felt her hands in his hair and started to relax as she returned the favor from earlier. Her voice was light, remarking at the resilience of grat blood as she scrubbed it from his scalp. Looking at her, wet and clean and not bloody and bruised, he felt the former heat returning, spreading as he stood and brushed a wet lock of hair back from her forehead. She had been talking, a funny story about Rajin, Glyph, and a net full of fish, but when she saw his intent expression, her voice trailed off. She smiled, then, a kind of crooked half-smirk that made his blood boil.

When he kissed her this time, it was with different kind of urgency, and her hands stilled in his hair as he guided her back to the shower wall. He dragged his mouth over hers, clutching her against him, shutting his eyes to all but the feel and the taste of her.

She pulled back suddenly, holding his face in her hands as she searched his eyes for something, frowning. Her frown soon faded in favor of a strange, almost mischevious expression, and then she closed her hands around his, forcing them against the shower wall, pressing her lips against his skin and trailing her hands along his sides as she moved lower…lower….

"Ungh."

He closed his eyes and forgot everything but the beat of the water and the pound of his blood.

*

….

Later, they lay twisted in the sheets, moonlight and the salt air hovering over the bed and over their bare skin. He had his cheek on her naked thigh, staring lazily up at her as he traced patterns on her skin, re-heating her blood.

"What are you doing?"

"You shouldn't ask, it spoils the surprise."

As he drew his palm up her leg, spreading it open with a wicked grin, her body bowed up to him of its own accord and his hand snagged against the cut on her inner thigh. She grimaced, both because of the pain and because she had been hoping to avoid the reaction it would inevitably procure. He had been distracted, earlier- now, perhaps unfortunately, he was completely focused on her.

Seifer stopped, frowning: he turned her thigh into the moonlight and examined it further. It wasn't a cut, exactly; there was an entire small symmetric chunk of flesh missing.

His frown deepened. "The fuck is this?"

"Part of the errand," she replied, looking down at him with a weary expression on her face.

His eyes darkened. "Tell me about the errand."

Sighing, she told him.

Within seconds, he had bolted from the bed, his jaw set. "That fucking _bitch_!"

Outside the bedroom door, Styx and Cerberus barked. "Shut up!" Seifer yelled at the door. He had locked them out hours before because, quite frankly, it gave him the creeps to have two dogs watching them fuck.

She sat up, laying a hand on his arm. "Seifer. It's only for a year."

His hands curled into fists. "I don't fucking care if it's for a _day_. You're _not_ going back there."

She sat up, folding her arms. "It's not _your_ decision."

"Tch. It wasn't really _yours_, either, was it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Seifer…it's done. It's just a pint of blood-"

"-and it might as well be a pound of flesh!" Seifer was on his feet now. "You're not some fucking lab rat Xu can rent out! Cid _never_ would have done that, and you _know_ it!"

"Circumstances aren't the same as when Cid was Headmaster…_you_ know that." Her arms were folded, and her jaw set. He knew that look well- it meant she wasn't budging an inch, which surprised him, because from what he had gathered, she hated both the fucking place and the mad scientist running it.

He scowled. "I'm coming with you, next time."

Hojo and Seifer was not a combination Quistis imagined would be any more relaxing than just dealing with Hojo alone, but she saw by the look in his eyes that he would not be swayed. She sighed, regretting her decision to tell him, but really, she hadn't had a choice. It was either tell him or lie to him, and she didn't want to do the latter.

"All right," she agreed, quietly. "But no killing the scientists." She tried a smile, for both of them.

"No promises," he replied darkly, folding his arms. His entire body read 'angry', the muscles tense, the look in his eyes hard. She wanted to rail at him that _she_ should be the one that was angry, but she recognized the source of his anger and it softened her, just a little.

"Fucking Xu," he growled.

She fixed him with a placating look. "Come to bed," she said, hoping to distract him. She **was** naked…that had to count for something.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down at her with a mixture of anger and desire. The candlelight danced off of his naked skin, against the muscles of stomach, the jutting bones of his hips, flickering across the grim line of his mouth. Anger was still winning out against 23-year-old male hormones, but she was counting on their persistence.

"I swear to _fucking_ Hyne, the next time Xu needs an errand run, she can-"

Sighing, she decided to give the hormones some help. She sat up on her knees, and, threading her fingers through his hair, pulled his lips down to hers.

Her aim was effective. There was no talk of Xu, or contracts, or missions, the rest of the evening. In fact, there was very little talking at all.

Seifer could tell when he was being baited. However, this time, he found he didn't mind.

Much.

*

….

…

…

Hojo's eyes flickered up from his microscope at the intrusion. "Back so soon?"

Hojo's voice was deliberately snide, and both knew it.

Like Hojo, Gast was a relatively short, lanky man, his dark hair pinned back in a messy ponytail. Unlike Hojo, however, Gast had an open, friendly face, his dark eyes filled with a restless curiosity that was a pleasant deviation from Hojo's dissecting stare. There were bags under his eyes, made deeper by the harsh florescent light of the lamps. He removed his heavy coat, settling himself into one of the office chairs and picking up a print out. "These are your current feeds on Specimen Alpha?"

Hojo nodded. "Any further material harvested from the primary excavation site?"

Gast shook his head. "All residual traces left from the corpse have been removed. The site is now considered closed."

"The preliminary findings on dental, hair, and skin?"

Gast dug in his briefcase, and handed over a large stack of papers, some thoroughly stained with coffee.

"DPA indicator tests positive." Hojo looked up from the feeds, raising a dark brow. Harvestable DNA present was an exciting prospect. "When can we expect the specimen?"

"Sometime next week," replied Gast, licking his forefinger before rifling through the stack Hojo had handed him. "In the small tissue sample we ran, Mako concentrations showed at 77%."

At the rate that frostbite was taking ahold of his fingers, noted Hojo, Gast would not be able to lift a scalpel, much less run an agarose gel. Hojo took a pleasant note of this before returning to Gast's findings, which were admittedly promising.

In the short silence that ensued, there was the sound of rushing water in the next room, and the hum of a mechanical stabilizer. Lucrecia was still working on the holding tank that would house the specimen when it arrived. Lucrecia herself was a gift that came with Gast- a young. bright biotechnologist still smarting from the harsh reviews on her thesis and eager to prove herself- the best kind of assistant.

"The SeeD," said Gast. "What were the concentrations of Mako in her blood, at the time of the coma and present?"

"They were, and remain, at 87%. Compared to specimen Alpha…." mused Hojo.

"We can't make that comparison yet. The samples I took were from marrow, and I haven't yet factored in to the denaturizing factor of the Mako concentrations over time and decay. Still, at 87%....amazing, amazing."

Hojo lifted both eyebrows at the other researcher. "I would not start the printing press on your thesis just yet, Gast."

"Of course not," snapped the scientist. "Still, it lends credibility to the notion that certain phenotypes are more conducive to symbiosis with Mako energy."

"We'll see." Hojo took a fresh coverslip from his drawer, and made a blood smear before sliding it over to Gast.

"Yes, we will." Replied Gast, under his breath.

Hojo went back to his feeds, and Gast eagerly slipped the slide onto his own microscope, making notes in the margins of his old print outs from the northern site. The two men settled into their research, and began the time-honored practice of ignoring the other's presence.

Theirs was a strange, strained relationship- since the corporate acquisition of EuGen, Hojo had been forced to move down a rank and relinquish control of his laboratory to Gast, something he did reluctantly and with a large degree of petulance. Though Gast had also joined with Hojo reluctantly, given his past research, Hojo was a brilliant scientist heavily endorsed by his current employer.

With the corporate interest, Hojo's funding had risen exponentially, and the sanctions imposed on him by the Human Rights Committee, the Esthar Bureau for Animal Rights, and Citizens United against National Terrorist Science had conveniently disappeared. Gast, for now, was a necessary evil. For Gast, rights to run the lab were contingent on the acquisition of Hojo's current research regarding Mako energy….Hojo was an evil necessity.

Gast held up the feeds, comparing the two. "According to these, she may well be an Ancient."

"Bad science, my friend. Her phenotype isn't similar enough to make that comparison, and you know it."

Gast leaned over his shoulder, then looked down into his microscope again. "Even if that were true, it still doesn't explain why she survived the mag poisoning. The deposits alone that remain in her body are enough to kill ten adult males. Cetra or no."

Hojo held up a finger, and produced a stack of print-outs. "She's infected."

Gast glanced at the stack, frowning as he thumbed through the sheets. "With what?"

"A virus, I think. It could explain her resistance to the denaturing factor." Hojo paused. "But it's odd that it should be the cause…but it's the only anomalous factor I can find. The virus appears dormant, inactive. I'll need more blood samples to run a complete scan."

"Then what is she?"

"Too early to say."

Hojo waited for Gast to leave, then picked up the telephone, dialing a familiar number. As he waited for the connection, he ordered a printout from the current feed on the electron microscope, as well as from the DNA analysis. The new machines whirred and blinked around him-gifts from his new employer. He took a moment to appreciate his new toys, then bent his sleek head to the microscope in front of him, placing a slide of a blood smear onto the stage and adjusting the knob.

Someone on the other line picked up. Hojo wasted no time. "Yes. I need clomiphene and metformin, two doses each. No. Can you get them or can't you?" Irritation flickered across Hojo's face, but like every other emotion that flitted through the scientist's visage, it was quickly gone. He readjusted the slide, and added a small drop of oil to the top of the coverslip. "No. You aren't paid to ask questions, you're paid to retrieve." Hm. The magnification still was not where he wanted it. Better just to use the EM, and skip the light altogether. "If you can't perform your duties, I will be forced to get another mongrel, and put you to sleep. Yes. Tomorrow. Have it ready."

Hojo set down the phone, and picked up the printout. An expression twisted his features into an even more grotesque perversion of the human flesh- it might have been a smile.


	7. Letter 3

_Dear Quistis,_

_Thanks for your phone call! It was so nice to hear another voice on the line! You're like my only connection to civilization, you know! (Okay, so its not QUITE that bad-but almost!)_

_As I write this letter to you, I'm surrounded by a sea of boxes. Box skyscrapers, box doorstops, even a box table to set the plates. I've managed to clear off enough of one particularly study box to fit a piece of paper and my pen. I'm the only one awake right now, and I'm having trouble sleeping. I think its because its so quiet out here- only the waves and my own thoughts to keep me company. Well, and there's my constant companion, too, but I don't think he's awake right now. I know I wouldn't be, if I had a choice. I often think about how neat it would be if my belly was transparent, and I could watch everything the baby's doing, kind of like a mini theater that sits in between my spleen and small intestine. Squall then pointed out if my stomach was see-through, we could also see my food digesting. I guess some things are better left to the imagination._

_Squall and I are mostly moved in, meaning we've managed to stuff all of our boxes into our wing of the house. Squall wouldn't let me lift anything (he said it would be bad for the baby) and moved all of the heavy boxes up the stone path himself, grumbling to himself about how many shoes I have. Hey, a girl needs the right pair of shoes for every outfit, right? I don't think men understand about shoes, do you?_

_Thank you so much for helping me to pack all of my stuff out of Garden before we left- I never realized I had so many things until I had to move them! Speaking of moving, has the big meanie worn you down yet? I can't understand why you want to stay in that cramped little dorm room, not when there's a beach house and a handsome man waiting to warm up your feet at night! How is the meanie, anyway? After visiting with Edea and the kids, he sure took off in a hurry. I think he was anxious to get home to somebody. *wink wink* _

_Is he taking good care of you? If he doesn't, he'll have me to answer to!_

_Thanks so much for the gift basket you sent along with Selphie and Irvine. Squall and I ate most of the basket for dinner, as we had nothing else unpacked and Edea had gone to bed long before we arrived. The bread was so good- tomato basil is Squall's favorite and between us we ate the whole loaf with wedges of that wonderful garlic cheese you sent. I just love using the excuse of eating for two people! I intend to use it as long as I can. Can you imagine Selphie being pregnant? She'd eat everything in sight! Table legs, tea cozies...._

_Squall leaves tomorrow to come back to Garden- apparently Xu's got some unfinished contracts there that require his personal attention. I know a lot of you were personally requested after the 3rd Sorceress War, and I know it irritated Squall. He said he wanted to be hired because he was good, not because he was famous. When I told him he was famous because he was good, he shrugged and said it wasn't the same. But isn't it? I can just see you frowning on the other end of this letter, Quistis, wrinkling your nose in that little way you have when you think someones wrong but don't say it because you're too polite. (Let's never be polite to each other Quistis- let's say exactly what we're thinking!) You'd agree with Squall, I think. Squall and I think so differently, about so many things, sometimes I wonder how we seem to work out at all. I suppose its like you and I- were very different, but we still manage to be good friends, don't we? Still, I know Squall will be glad when all the fanfare about the sorceress wars settles down, and so will I. We have that in common, all of us, I think. You know, I think Squall believes that here, the media wont be able to get to me. I for one think Squall underestimates the media, don't you?_

_Since Squall has to leave, Edea's volunteered to help me unpack some of the boxes tomorrow, and for that I'm eternally grateful. (Truth be told, Ive forgotten whats in most of them.) I have to admit that these living arrangements are worrying me a little-I really hope were not imposing on her! Squall says the orphanage is such a huge place and Edea will be grateful to have the company, and I hope he's right. He also says we'll be good for her, but I think, more than anything, that Squall thinks that Edea and I will be good for each other. I hope he's right about that, too._

_Its different for the both of us, living here. To Squall, the woman living with us is Matron- the beautiful if distant mother-figure from his childhood, the rock you all attached yourselves to when you were drifting alone in a wide and unsteady sea. To me, she seems distant, withdrawn, a shell of a woman that the sorceress left behind. Sorceresses are like stars, I think. Some burn out quietly- when the light leaves them, they shrivel and fade. Ultimecia was a supernova, Adel too. I wonder which one I'll be?_

_The quiet one, I hope._

_Maybe here, I'll learn more about all of you, where you grew up, how you grew up. Maybe, through Edea, Ill be able to learn more about myself. I've been thinking a lot about that lately, about learning more about the succession of sorceresses. I guess Ive been kind of going around holding a loaded weapon, without reading any of the safety manual (if there is one! Can you imagine- The Idiot's Guide to Sorceress Powers?) Haha, I should write it! I'll let you know how the research goes! Maybe you and Ceres could help me find some material to read- you're both so good at research, and there's not a whole lot in the way of a library on this place._

_There's an emptiness here on this island, Quistis, a vastness I cant explain. It's soothing and it's scary all at once. How did you all grow up here? Growing up, my world always seemed so small, so sensible. There was a place for everything, for each object and each feeling that I had. Even when I hated my father, there was a place for that anger, you know? I just don't know where anything goes anymore. To someone like you, Quistis, I'm sure that must sound very silly._

_I remember in the beginning, traveling with all of you, feeling so out of my depth and so scared that I would be left behind. I wanted so much to travel with you, to learn-I just wanted to keep up, and not get in the way. Between you and me, I was really scared (I'm sure you noticed, though!) The world seemed so big, and there was so much going on. But you, all of you, seemed to accept events that followed without any questions, no matter how big or terrible they were, with perfect calm. If the world pushed you one way, you simply went in another direction. I wonder if it is because you are all truly the Liberi Fatali, as they say, or whether losing so much, when you're so young, opens you up to the world in a way that's hard to ever fill. When I became a sorceress, I think it opened me up in a way, too, and I began to understand all of you a little better. (In a different way, of course.) _

_In my way, I chose to be a sorceress. You didn't choose to be orphans. Maybe that's part of the reason I accepted the powers in the first place, so that I could understand, so that I could keep up-I don't know. Even now, I don't know. Maybe I wasn't meant to._

_Sitting here, writing to you, looking at these empty walls and feeling a little empty myself, I don't know if I can fill all this new space up in myself- I wonder if that's just how everyone feels when they move?_

_I'm going to cut this letter short. I think, now, that maybe I can get some rest. Thank you for listening to my thoughts, Quistis. Squall always said that it was hard having you for a teacher- that it was hard to talk to you because you always seemed so perfect, so together. (Don't take that too harshly, you know how hard it is for Squall to talk to anyone!). But once we got to know each other, I always thought it was really easy. Because we're both lonely, aren't we, Quistis? Both in our own ways. Talking to you makes me feel less lonely, somehow. Does it make you feel that way, too? I hope so._

_Your friend,_

_Rinoa_


	8. Momentum

_**We're both looking for something  
We've been afraid to find  
It's easier to be broken  
It's easier to hide**_

Looking at you, holding my breath  
For once in my life I'm scared to death  
I'm taking a chance letting you inside

I'm feeling alive all over again  
As deep as the scars under my skin  
Like being in love, she said, for the first time  
Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm feeling right  
where I belong with you tonight  
Like being in love to feel for the first time

The world that I see inside you  
Waiting to come to life  
Waking me up to dreaming  
Reality in your eyes

We're crashing  
Into the unknown  
We're lost in this  
But it feels like home

Like being in love to feel for the first time

_**-Lifehouse**_

The smoky fog had begun to lift with the dawn, and hung suspended like a ghostly shroud among the damp fields. Through the mist, the halo of the rising sun could be seen, a faint crimson stain through the haze. The field was calm save for the occasional call of a bird, or the lazy chirp of a stray cricket. It was as silent and still as a graveyard.

Soon, it would become one.

Five men, heavily bundled in warm, dark trench coats, trekked across the grass with long, smooth strides. Smoke from their cigarettes billowed behind them, rising like the mist. "Here?" asked one, his voice muffled by the collar of his jacket.

"Farther in." Replied the other, pointing to a location far off into where the field rose into tall rows of corn. The men headed in the direction, in two small groups. One, a group of two, contained a tall gentleman walking slightly behind a more rotund one, while the second group contained three men wearing burettes and similarly cautious expressions.

Three pairs of eyes stirred in the grass, seeming to come alive as part of the landscape.

"I don't get this shit." Came a whisper as the men walked away, almost too soft to be heard and muffled by his jacket. A pair of bright blue eyes peered out from under the hood, as blue as the sky that hung just above the mist.

"Get what?" Another voice, this one belonging to a pair of obsidian eyes, which had narrowed at their companion's words.

"Well, I mean, do **you** have quarrel with the rebel republic of Armis?"

"No."

"Well then, what the fuck are we here for?"

"Because the government of **Esthar** has a quarrel with the rebel republic of Armis."

"So? Are **we** the government of Esthar?"

"Obviously not. We're the ones paid by the government of Esthar to have a quarrel with the rebel republic of Armis and the corrupt Senator that's backing them for tons of dirty money."

"See? That's my problem. We're not legitimately pissed off. Nobody's wronged **us**. We're here for artificial reasons. We're not the knights of old…we're hired bloody hands. This is like…the _anti_-chivalry."

"I knew there was a reason Instructor Briyak used to make you run extra laps during tactical training."

"But you don't contest my point."

"For fuck's sake, stop with the philosophy, Ardentia," hissed the other as they shifted their elbows and tried to get comfortable on the cold ground. A futile effort.

"But it's why we're here, isn't it? There's no question in your mind, ever?"

"Our job is to-"

"Fight other people's wars? Take other people's offenses?"

"What the hell did you think you'd be doing when you signed up? Rescuing princesses from some damned castle somewhere?"

"Besides getting out of the orphanarium? I thought I'd be fighting my own battles, for one."

"You don't find it offensive that there's a Senator funneling terrorist money into his bank account at the expense of his own city and its citizens' safety?"

"No, I find it offensive that I've been freezing my ass off these past few days so that the government of Esthar could sweep this under the rug instead of addressing it in court."

"Seriously, you have got to be the worst mercenary ever."

"You two shut up, before I kill you both," snarled a third voice as they rolled over in the grass. This voice was slightly older, and belonged to a pair of cold grey eyes hidden somewhere beneath the same type of hood. These eyes did not waver, but stayed trained on the men as they folded into the corn maze. The eyes were older, set, focused. It was what the other two would become- if they survived long enough.

A pause. The trio had been out in the cold for two days on the intelligence that a deal was about to go down. Usually these deals took place in the city, but heightened surveillance on the senate had forced the deals outside, giving the city officials the opportunity they had been looking for. Two days of constant cold and freeze-dried soldier rations were enough to make the two younger soldiers restless, much to the annoyance of their leader.

"Why are we using knives, anyway?" asked the blue-eyed philosopher, adjusting his hood. "I didn't go through Instructor Greyson's class for the fun of it."

"Why do you _think_, dumbfuck? Because gunshot would echo for miles, and because casting would attract the same amount of attention. Now shut up. You heard Blue….I don't want to flunk this mission before it's even started."

Silence stretched, long and tedious, as the three watched the men weave into the corn rows.

"Now?" asked one, the eagerness belying their lack of experience.

The pair of grey eyes rolled as 'Blue' turned towards his subordinates. "No. We wait for the transaction." The soldier turned back to watching through the binoculars, and mumbled something into his com that sounded like "Target sighted."

The other two turned back to each other, their hearts beginning to pick up speed.

"What does the **transaction** matter, if we're going to…?"

"They want the **pictures**, numbass, for the files. It's only why we've been freezing our asses off the past two nights. Where've **you** been?"

"Yeah, but I just can't believe they've authorized…well, you know. It says in our contract-"

"I can't believe you actually read the damned thing. What does it matter what it **says**? It's a public document, of _course_ it says we don't assassinate anyone."

"But assasinati-"

"It's not an **assassination** if they don't find the bodies."

"Shut the fuck up, both of you." Came a harsh whisper again. "Grab your shit and let's move."

Three of the men in black now squatted in the field, holding a briefcase between them. Glancing around, the tallest popped open the latches. Two other men stood in front of them, wearing permanent expressions of boredom.

"It's all there?" asked one, the tall young man next to the squat one with a neatly trimmed goatee.

"What, you want to stand out here and count it?" asked one of the squatters, irritably, glancing around. "For all we fucking know, there's bugs out here, too, dragging behind that fat ass of yours." The man in the middle, apparently the leader of the squatters, had dark hair and eager, beetle-black eyes that darted from side to side.

One of the standing men began to reach into his coat, but the squat man with the goatee stopped him. "Just hurry it up, Arlington," he snapped. "I'm supposed to be in Centra this week."

"You know, Senator, you've become a real paranoid bitch since the pigs in Esthar started on your scent."

The 'senator' nodded, and this time, the tall man in the long overcoat pulled the pistol the rest of the way out, cocked it, and pointed it calmly at the men on the ground.

"Remember your respect, boys. You maggots are a dime a dozen…you're a passing fad." snarled the Senator, pulling out a small note from his pocket. "If you can't conduct your business with civility, perhaps I could make your faction's home base a little more…public?"

"I'd like to see you try, without digging your **own** fatass grave." The men on the ground laughed, but the laughter quickly subsided. The small man with the quick eyes snapped the briefcase shut, sliding it over the husks of fallen corn. "Now give me the fucking lock numbers to the Senate House. Chop, chop."

"Just remember. You detonate the bomb while it's not in session." The senator raised his hand, about to hand over the paper. "Let's finish this."

"Yes, let's finish this, shall we, gents?" Came yet another, strange voice, from between the stalks on the eastern part of the field. Within seconds, weapons were drawn, safeties disengaged as each barrel pointed towards the east and fired. The silencers muffled the sounds- the bullets shot into the corn with loud 'thwacks!' as they cut through the dry, brittle husks.

The men turned in time to see the main attack come from the west- it came in glances of light and whirs of sound. Knives sliced through the air with a sharp hiss, cold steel against heavy fog as they cut through both mist and flesh. The first knife plunged through one of the men on the ground, severing his jugular and ripping open his neck from ear to ear. A brushstroke.

Blood sprayed into the cold winter air, splattering the men around them as the body pitched forward.

But the rest had no time to react. Another knife whirred, plunging up through the trenchcoat of the Senator's bodyguard, through the fat of the hip and slicing into the stomach. The man gurgled and dropped his gun- another swipe plunged the blade into the soft flesh of the underside of his jaw, missing the soft palate and spiking into the brain, silencing any noise.

The third knife, a serrated blade, punched through the back, jamming against the short ribs of one of the rebels before puncturing a lung. The man let out a sound as if winded and slumped over, wheezing, immobilized as they gasped for help. Blue eyes swore and adjusted the grip on his knife, and the dark-eyed soldier stepped in to finish the job, shoving him out of the way.

Two men were left. The Senator turned and ran, and the dark-eyed soldier whipped their head up after him, distracted. The leader of the rebel faction, took the lapse, reaching into the folds of his long coat. A body shoved the dark-eyed soldier out of the way, and had time to look down as the rebel leader fired into his face. As soon as the leader fired, however, there was a knife in his throat, swept cleanly across the neck. He dropped the gun, slumping onto a waiting body, unable to scream as he bled out with every heartbeat.

Grey Eyes looked up, his face awash with blood and bits of brain from his comrade, and yelled to his surviving subordinate, who stood, stunned, blood dripping from her young face as she looked down at her fallen -eyed-

"Dispatch him! Dispatch him **NOW**!"

The other fled, tearing after the Senator. It was not a difficult chase- any athletic ability the Senator once possessed had long ago faded in the wake of his many indulgences. She could hear the pant and wheeze of the man's breath- see his breath cloud the cold air as he stumbled through the corn rows. She gripped the knife, slippery with the man's blood, and wiped a hand down her face, trying to clear the warm, bloody brains of her comrade from her line of vision.

She was on the Senator immediately, and they toppled to the ground. The man was positively slippery with blood, and she felt him struggle beneath her like a greased pig, his flabby thighs thrashing between her legs. She gripped the handle of her knife firmly, firmly, and punched it into his chest.

The man screamed and kicked harder, and she winced. No good. Ribs and maybe a slice of liver- not enough to kill him and not enough to shut him up. In her panic she had tried to stab straight through, and instead caught the breastbone, glancing the blade off just short of the heart. Oh, fuck. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead and he was twisting underneath her, writhing like a fish and begging for his life between howls of pain. She thought of her friend on the ground behind her, and she felt heat rising in her face, in her belly, in her arms. He needed to die, he needed to die, she chanted this panicked mantra in her head as she scrambled-

"No!" wheezed the Senator. "No! I'm an Estharian Senator, I have diplomatic-"

Unstick the knife. Unstick the knife and stab him again.

She slid forward, punching the muscular slab of her folded leg into his neck, quieting his struggles slightly as she tried to get a better grip on the knife.

No good. Serrated. **Stuck**.

Twisting the knife, she adjusted her leg and braced her boot on the man's neck, pulling her knife free with a sickening squelching sound. Adjusting her grip, she swiped the blade across his throat. The man's eyes were rolling all around, his high screams quickly melting into a long, rolling gurgle that faded like a teakettle whistle as he slumped back, his white head thudding back onto the bloody corn husks.

She recognized death from the textbook and the tapes- the ashen face, the lolling, bulging eyes, the gaping mouth with a tiny tail of spittle trailing down. Wiping her knife on her pants, she wobbled to her feet like an unsteady calf, dazed and covered with the lifeblood of four different men.

Blue was waiting for her, wiping his knife on his pants before he sheathed the blade in his boots. "Wipe your face off," he said curtly. "It's covered in Erich's skull."

_Erich._ _Erich's skull. Did they still all have names?_

_Yes. Blue is Carson. And I am…I am-_

She absently rubbed at her face, her bloody hand only smearing the mess further. The blood was beginning to freeze on her face, stiffening her cheeks and her mouth. The scent was heavy- metallic and stifling.

"Idiot," muttered Carson. "Shouldn't have…bloody stupid…" He turned away, briefly, trying to shake a piece of skull off his foot.

Which left her with the end of the sentence, to finish it herself- Erich should not have pushed her out of the way. _She_ had been distracted, and _she_ should have been killed for her stupidity.

"What's one of the principal rules of hand to hand combat?" Carson's voice was low and cold as he turned on her.

"Keep your eyes on your nearest opponent until he has been dispatched completely. Use peripheral vision for-"

"Good enough," muttered Carson. "Actually _use_ it next time."

What remained of Erich was slumped with the other bodies- barely recognizable but for his double-knotted boots and the fresh scar from the ID chip in his arm. His face was nothing but a bloody dish- pieces of his teeth were stuck in the cold ground like tacks in a corkboard. One of his eyes was sitting on the lapels of the rebel leader's coat. A sniper's rifle would not have left such a messy wound.

But the shotgun under the rebel faction leader's long coat….that would have.

The same rules that applied to their enemies, also applied to them. Their enemies could be killed. They could be killed.

She felt at once a wave of nausea. Erich Ardentia was a boy she had trained with, competed with, a boy that wanted to be a philosopher king and a noble knight, a boy that could eat an entire pizza by himself and once stuffed Nida's locker full of porn….a boy that had fumbled with her bra clasp in the Secret Area, his face shy but eager, his hands gentle and clumsy…Erich was dead, his face blown off by a person that previously he'd had no quarrel with and who previously had no quarrel with him. He would never eat another pizza, never laugh, never think of another inane question….and it was all because someone else paid him to have a problem with someone he'd never met before. He'd died for someone else's problem. He'd pushed her out of the way and gotten his face blown off for somebody else's greed and corruption.

The very thing had been on his lips an eternity ago….seven minutes ago.

"Your first kills." Said Carson to her, a smile creeping onto his face that seemed to have no foothold. "I've sixteen, myself."

"Although," he said, glancing around her. "You should get two points for the Senator, I think. Fucking pig's the size of two men, all n' all. So, that's three total for you. Not bad, not bad."

One of the men was still alive- it was a lung wound, and a horrible, sucking sound was muffled by the ground as the man struggled to breathe through the dirt. Carson rolled over the man with the lung wound, and staring down with an empty expression, pressed his boot onto the man's throat. The man's hands twitched, the legs jerking, but it was a feeble attempt, a fading attempt. Carson looked up at the sky, squinting at the rising sun. He might have been stepping on an insect, for the calm expression on his face.

Something rose in her, something like a small bird beating its wings in her ribcage, and **saying stop it stop it stop it STOP IT DON'T KILL HIM, HE WANTS TO LIVE, ERICH WANTED TO LIVE-**

But then it was over, and the man's eyes had fixed, and Carson was looking from her to his watch. "Seventeen. I noticed, though, that you stuck your blade. Always hit below, go for the stomach and lead up- you won't catch the ribs or other bone that way, and a stomach injury usually immobilizes them. You probably flayed the liver…that's a non-lethal hit and you bled him like a pig. That's a major clean-up we've got on our hands, now."

She nodded, staring at the ground, wondering if they should pick up Erich's face and put it in a bag for the ride home. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

The 'sir' seemed to please Carson, because his expression relaxed. "Remember it for next time," said Carson, and ruffled her hair, grinning before beginning to assess the field. The action seemed obscene and out of place…but then, what action had occurred here that was appropriate?

"Now what…Instructor Creed?" she found herself asking, shivering against the cold as she followed Carson's example and sheathed her knife in her boot. She was freezing, she was shaking from adrenaline, and Erich Ardentia's brains were all over her face…

_Now what? Now what? Do I die, too? Do I wake up screaming to a nightmare? Does Erich jump up and say it was all a big joke?_

She had trained with Erich, struggled, studied with him…he had become like a kind of family to her, the kind she was denied in the orphanage. Unlike the kids there, Erich did not steal her food, her things, but shared his…

She had thought, perhaps, that this would be her new family. That they could protect each other from the world here, and be safe. But it had been naïve, and foolish, even then, and she had known that…she had. She had known better. Erich had simply become another thing that was to be taken away

"Now," said Carson, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "We bury them."

"T-together?" she asked. "I mean, we bury them together? Erich and-"

"Yes," replied her Instructor. "You remember the first rule of any scene?"

"Minimize and condense affected area," she recited automatically. "Contain the scene and dispose of any biological elements-"

Carson leaned over, taking Erich's arm and positioning the blade over the new chip scar. She trailed off.

_Erich, standing in Kadowaki's office, his arm held out and a bright grin on his face. "See? SeeD! We made it! I told you!" He beamed at Dr. Kadowaki as she tucked the chip under his skin. "Sure showed Instructor Briyak, jerk making me run laps…"_

_Later, Erich had gotten ahold of a cheap bottle of champagne from the ceremony, and they wandered into the Secret Area, talking, a little tipsy…he had kissed her there, and she had let him. He was not her first, certainly, but the first one she liked, the first one she let, and he was earnest and clumsy and gentle…_

"Don't-" she began, but it was out before she could stop it.

Carson's head jerked up at her, a cool look on his face. She had made another mistake.

_The mission is all. Casualties are a necessity of the mission._

"He _can't_ be traced to us." He said, matter-of-factly. "You understand that?"

_If I don't understand that, do I go in the hole with him?_

The words died in her. Instead she nodded, staring at the ground.

Carson plucked the bloody chip out of Erich's cooling skin, placing it in his pocket. Carson was young, but he had done well in training, and had quickly risen to instructor status. "Right. Erich's dental structure has been destroyed, so there will be no need to alter his configuration. We'll pick up the teeth…those can be planted in the training center along with some paperwork. T-rexaur accident or something. The rest we can dig down."

_And no one will question the report, because Erich has no family. Practically none of us do. That's the advantage of hiring orphan mercenaries…no on will miss us when we're gone._

Xu blinked. "Won't the farmer…?"

"No. The terrorists chose this place because the farmer is an uncle of one of them, remember?

_No, I don't remember_, she thought, the adrenaline still spiking through her, making her dizzy, _I barely remember my own name-_

Cason was still talking. "- he's heavily connected, and even if he were to discover the bodies, he could never report them without implicating himself. Something you can always count on, Chang, is people's sense of self-preservation. Now, let's get going…this is going to take awhile. This farm may be out in the middle of nowhere, but there's always hunters, trailing after wounded animals through the corn…and I'll bet the rest of the rebels know where their friends are. Senator McColkin won't be missed for awhile…he's on vacation in Centra after all." Carson's breath crystallized in the air. "Lucky bastard."

He looked up, suddenly. Snow was beginning to fall- big, wet flakes that would lead to packing snow, the kind perfect for making snowmen-

-or covering blood.

It was good luck. She had not been looking forward to demonstrating her cloaking magic, which was temperamental at best.

"The sooner we finish the sooner we can go back and have a hot shower. You're fortunate for your first mission- no mission report for this one. Go get the shit from the packs." Carson smiled almost kindly at her, and the two set to work. The knives were cleaned of fingerprints, re-rolled in blood, and shoved into the hands of the dead men. The dead men, beginning to stiffen from the cold, were rolled into the hole, which had to be deep enough to avoid upturning if the field was plowed next planting season. It was well into early afternoon by the time they had cleaned and contained the area. She almost didn't notice, but somewhere within those five hours Erich had become another body to be shoveled into the hole- not her friend, not a boy who always tripped over his shoelaces, not a boy she had fucked in the Secret Area, but a reason the hole had to be dug deeper…the reason for more blisters. What more could she do for him? She was alive, and he was dead, and this was the way things were…the way they'd been laid out in slice of time that had just rolled out in front of them.

Afterwards, the two sat on the newly settled ground, waiting for information about their next rendezvous point. Something twisted in her suddenly, remembering the site of Erich's body huddled in the ground with the rebels and the corrupt politician, but it was quickly gone.

"Your birthday is next week, correct?" Carson, breaking off a piece of dried Wendigo jerky, his grey eyes lightened into something that could be mistaken for human.

Her birthday. She had forgotten. Not surprising, as she could never remember having reason to celebrate it. "Yes, sir."

"How old will you be?"

A pause as she calculated. She had not had a birthday party since….

She had never had a birthday party.

"Seventeen, sir. I think I'll be seventeen."

Carson grinned at her across the new grave as he handed her a piece of the dried meat.. "Well, let me give you an early present. Congratulations, Xu. Welcome to SeeD."

She took the meat, and tried to smile. It was what she had been working towards the last four years, after all. The jerky smelled coppery and tasted metallic, like the blood residue on her fingers. The moment and the meat was bittersweet.

The day would become one of many that rolled together in a blur of blood and politics. After Classified 151A-F, no JC's were allowed on Type-F missions. Not that it mattered. They would learn to kill soon enough.

She would teach them, soon enough.

She had since killed more men and women…she had since lost other comrades whose faces now slipped her mind. If she bothered to reflect on it, to untangle her memories, she might have isolated that moment as the moment she became a soldier.

She might have thought back on that memory as the one in which her heart first stopped beating.

….

…

…

Xu worked late, and she worked late often. Unlike Cid, who had snapped off his light at 10pm every night, Xu burned the midnight oil, usually only catching a small cat-nap before the sun came up. It was all her body required, and as she had always been nocturnal, the rhythm was natural, easy. She told herself that the overtime was voluntary.

If she were honest with herself, she was afraid to sleep on the job, both literally and metaphorically.

She had worked too long and too hard to climb this high, and was ever aware of just how precarious her position was at the top.

Though Xu considered herself a modern woman, she was under no delusions that a woman in a military institution enjoyed any real equality. She'd worked twice as hard and as long as any male cadet there to achieve her previous station, and she'd done so under barbs assaulting everything from her femininity to her sexuality. She was the first woman to run a Garden, and she was well-aware that her position could be ripped from her at any moment for less reason than would be owed a man. And so, she continued to work twice as hard, and twice as long as Cid ever had, all to enjoy the same amount of respect the former Headmaster had enjoyed.

But perhaps that wasn't entirely true. In many ways, Xu was more respected than Cid ever been, if for different reasons. She was ruthless, and utterly pragmatic, whereas Cid had been prone to bouts of sentimentalism. Where some groups had enjoyed a slight discount under Kramer's power, groups paid full price under Xu's, and they paid up front, leaving the conference room with the distinct feeling of having been ravaged in a back alley. Garden's clients paid well, and they were given results. Still, some of the stigma that had infected Garden's reputation still lingered, and Xu was still working to overcome the perception that Garden was an unstable trigger for the biggest spender. As a result of Garden's lingering unpopularity, Xu was forced to accept contracts that under better times she would have turned up her nose at.

Xu seldom stopped long enough to be confronted with the price of her position, (or the price her conscience suffered) but when she did, it stung only slightly, as most things did in the present day. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she would be surprised by exhaustion…would stare down at her trembling hands and be astonished at the soft flesh and the tremor inside them. Even connected to her human elements, they seemed distant, disconnected- she had been functioning with cold, steel determination for so long, that it seemed that even her own body had begun to reject itself…or rather the idea of itself, which was by all accounts rooted in frailty.

She was so engrossed in the latest proposal that it took her several seconds to absorb the new presence in the room. The presence wavered across some primitive part of her mind, the part she had trained to be as calm and as still as a windless lake.

She had always thought it funny that SeeD were supposed to be superhuman- she disagreed. A SeeD was an instinct stripped of any social components- compassion, hesitation, doubt, empathy…A SeeD was equivalent to One Basic Human Element- a unit of flesh, blood, bone- one ruthless Id, first and foremost acutely aware of itself.

In the calm simplicity of her soldier's brain, she felt the presence of others like a large, unmovable stone- an irritation. Once Xu's mind registered the intrusion, her mind worked quickly.

_Doors are locked. Curfew. No meetings. No one should be here this late._

_My guns._

_Across the room._

Xu immediately stiffened, her hand curling around her letter opener as she brought her eyes up to the source of the irritation-

Seifer Almasy was darkening her doorway, wearing an expression that complimented the shadows on his face.

"What is it?" she snapped at him, reluctantly putting down her weapon. "You know you're supposed to be here as little as possible."

"Urgent business."

She did not like the tone of his voice. Then again, in all fairness, she had never liked the tone of his voice.

"And you brought your weapon for…" She waved at the impressive blade slung across his shoulders.

"You wanted the Training Center pruned."

"Last week. I wanted it done last week. Your timing is impeccable, as always." Xu leaned back, tapping her finger against the silver point of the letter opener. "Where is Quistis?"

"Home, sleeping." His gaze did not waver. "It is, after all, three in the morning."

"And **I** owe the pleasure of your visit to…" she asked, getting impatient. She had five more contracts to go over before the night was through, and she'd barely tackled one. Seifer's presence, which was naturally an irritation, had now evolved into an irritating _inconvenience_.

"Your little deal with Quistis."

She did not need to ask what he was talking about. Leaning forward, she stabbed the letter opener into the wood.

"Quistis sent you?" she sneered.

"Quistis doesn't know I'm here." Seifer replied, folding his arms.

"Here we go," she muttered, putting her feet up on her desk and settling in. Truthfully, she _had_ been expecting a little backlash from the ex-knight. Seifer had protection issues a mile wide where Quistis was concerned- very unflattering, even on him.

Seifer continued. "I did my research. Hojo's human rights violations are a mile wide, and that's not even touching on his animal rights violations. Genetic experimentation, pain-stimulus with no anesthetic, mag-emersion…the only reason he can still operate is because Gast's company mopped up all of his lawsuits when they merged the two labs."

"It always amazes me that you can read," she mused, picking at a fingernail with the sharp point of the letter opener.

Seifer folded his arms, deciding to ignore the barb. "What the hell do you think Hojo wants with her?"

"What do you think? Hojo wants to understand how Quistis is still alive. Quite frankly, I think we're all a bit curious."

That much was true. Since Quistis had returned from the dead, she had been regarded as a kind of Deux Ex Machina around Garden, some sort of super soldier demi-god that death couldn't seem to touch. Quistis herself had avoided talking about the incident, but it did not stop the whispers.

Seifer shrugged. "Who cares _how_, as long as she's here?"

"Hojo does, and so do dozens of other biomedical and bioweapon corporations. They want to isolate the genetic anomaly that let her live through unprecedented mag-blood concentrations. But you already know that." Xu sat back in her chair, dropping the letter opener and rolling her eyes. "And so does she."

"It's not that simple."

"It _is_ that simple." Xu rolled her eyes. "If he had wanted me instead, I would be sitting in that chair. As you may have noticed, Quistis can has been taking care of herself long before you entered the picture."

Seifer shoved off the doorway, walking closer. "You're fucking cold-blooded."

The headmistress chuckled. "Hello, pot? It's the kettle, you're black."

"Whatever. You rent her out again, and you'll be out a faction leader."

Xu examined a nail. "Surely you're not threatening to quit."

"It's not a threat. It's a promise."

She laughed. "And you'll do what? Take up fishing?" She picked up a ballpoint pen from a stack of paperwork, twirling it between her fingers and watching the light wink off of the silver tip. You could kill a man with this, jab it in the tender plane of his neck where the jugular snaked up to the brain.

She would know- she'd done it. Blood had sprayed out of the jugular like air out of a balloon animal. That had been a messy kill, a young kill. She'd since refined her skills. She would go for a spinal shot, now, drive the metal blade between the vertebra near the neck…sever the cord. Very little mess. Very little noise.

Come to think of it, every item on her desk held the capacity to kill…it had become unimaginable to her that some people sat at their desks, and drank tea, and did not think about the deadly uses of office supplies. The pen was heavy against her palm- smooth. It lulled her against the very real friction caused by the man in the doorway.

Her laughter subsided. It was just as well- Xu's laughter was often a hollow mimicry rather than the real thing. "Please. The only job you **can** do, you're already doing."

Green eyes narrowed. "You know, we're not all nearly as one-dimensional as you, Xu."

Xu set down her pen. "Don't kid yourself. Your greatest strength has always been in knowing exactly what you are. Don't lose that now when it's most useful to me." Xu met his gaze evenly. "And we both know what you are." She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "We both know it because we're the same."

He sneered at her. "And what are **we**, exactly?" he spat. "Killers?"

The comparison, the link between them irritated her as much as it did him, but hell, it was true. True, also was the fact that Xu was smarter about it, impeccable- she cleaned her claws and hid her scars. Seifer was bathed in blood that didn't wash off, wore his scars openly as some kind of warped attrition- something Xu had always regarded as a weakness.

Xu did not blink. "You catch on quickly."

He smirked at her. "This makes you and I **unique**? You run a school for fucking mercenaries, Xu."

"Exactly. These kids that walk though here, you have to have the humanity beat out of them in order to oil them up enough to kill another human being. I have to put hour upon hour of battle footage up in front of them so that they learn when to strike and when to duck, so that they can look at a pile of guts and not freeze up, but wade through them and eviscerate another enemy. Sure, Quistis wiped out an entire terrorist faction junctioned to about 3 GF's on a magic high, she broke a dozen necks with her whip and blasted hundreds to fuckall with her magic, but afterwards…she cried herself sick in the shower. She went to debriefing. She stayed in bed for days at first. She had to carve out parts of herself to do it."

"Not like you. You didn't need any classes to kill. You never needed any debriefing. You're a natural. You're a fucking reptile. And you know what? The thing that pisses you off the most about all this is that you _understand_ why I did it." Xu leaned forward. "You think because you've been given a post-humus pardon that it makes you clean? You think that because you're technically dead, that part of you is, too? Don't kid yourself. It's in there, as alive and awake and just as much a part of your rotting soul as it ever was."

"We're not talking about **me**." He said in a low voice.

"Oh, but we are, in a way. One bag of blood for the survival of Cid's dream…one bag of blood for the welfare of 600 students with nowhere else to go. I did it. I'd do it again. I've shed a lot more blood for less, and so has she. If our positions were reversed, you would have done the same. "

"No. I would have thought to **ask** her in the first fucking place, like any normal human being," he spit.

Xu's cheeks colored in fury. "Just how much is her blood worth to **you**, anyway? After all, you spilt more than a little of her blood yourself during the First Sorceress War, am I right? How much did it mean to you _then_? Just because she's suddenly your beacon of hope doesn't make you the fucking authority on what's best for her. You're using her, too, to get some futile hold on a 'normal life'." Xu paused, sharpening her words. "What is it really, that she's part of a contract or that you're worried there might not be enough of her to go around?"

There had always been a rift between Seifer and Xu, one rife with misunderstandings and personality conflicts. But, in that moment, an uncrossable chasm was carved between them- one that was unlikely to be bridged again.

The sword slept across his shoulder, catching the light occasionally. He did not draw his blade, but the look on his face was cold, sharp- and deadly calm. They were inches from something volatile.

She sighed. "It was a business decision. Garden needed the leasing rights to the land, as well as the opportunity to stick our foot in the door should EuGen prove a possible candidate for military contracts, which it was primed to do anyway. She was the only thing they were willing to trade for."

"She's supposed to be your friend." Replied Seifer. "Not a contract."

Xu shook her head. "Between these walls, she's both. She's a soldier. And a soldier must be, by necessity, as expendable as she is irreplaceable to the institution that creates her. Right now, to the institution, she is irreplaceable. There is no other that can perform her function. Quistis can accept this, even if she doesn't like it. And so should you."

Their eyes met- he wanted to make sure they understood each other perfectly. "You sell another ounce of her- a strand of her hair, a fingernail, and I'll make the White SeeD the most public faction since the fucking Moomba Scouts."

Xu recognized, not for the first time, the danger of having a dragon chained to you. A useful weapon, yes, but if it ever turned on you- a problem more devastating than it ever was useful.

"You're _threatening_ me?"

"You catch on quickly," he retorted, spitting her earlier words back at her.

She leaned forward. "I think you're forgetting how much you need me. Without me, there's no false i.d, no cloaking chips, no social security number-"

"_You've_ got it wrong." Seifer chuckled. "I think you're forgetting how much you need **me**, Xu. A dead man doing a job that doesn't exist? Where else are you going to find that kind of employee? So go ahead. Tell the world about me. The only reason I'm still dead is because it suits _you_, not me. You forget that the Galbadian bounty on my head is gone- they'd only be sending private assassins out against me, and I can deal with them fine. You think the Garden Council gives a shit whether or not one old war criminal's alive? They've got enough problems with replacing the Headmaster with someone who's not going to run it into the ground. They're still trying to clean up PR since Adel played puppeteer and smashed up a city. But I'll bet the Garden Council would be interested in the unofficial mission reports I've got sitting on my skull, don't you think? You think they wouldn't like to know about the bugs in every Galbadian senator's ass, and how I put them there?"

He had her there, and they both knew it.

"**Don't** threaten me, Almasy," she snarled. "You'll regret it."

"I suppose I **should** be worried about what you'd do to an enemy," replied the ex-knight. "I've already seen what you do to your _friends_."

"Get the fuck out of my office."

"My pleasure."

Xu felt a sudden wetness spurt across her hand, which she absently noticed she'd curled into a fist. She looked down, and realized the pen in her palm had spilled in half, spurting black ink all over her hand and the desk. After cleaning up the mess, she was left to contend with her remaining proposals and the silence, which managed to sound almost accusing.

….

…

Seifer rode his bike along the shore until the boil Xu had rolled in his blood had settled down to a simmer. By the time he pulled the bike into the back yard, it was early morning. Quistis was up and apparently burning toast in the kitchen, judging by the smell of it.

Both Cerberus and Styx were tearing around the yard, stirring up the occasional unlucky rabbit or small plant-type monster. Seifer grimaced as they got ahold of a stray Grat, dividing it like a wishbone and spraying green juice all over the lawn.

Glyph was more peaceful- he had parked himself on the porch, and was in the middle of preening himself. It never failed to surprise Seifer that the Chocobo had decided to stay- that the near-wild bird had settled down on the shores, speared fish every morning, and dozed on the porch next to the swing. Then again, years ago, he would never have imagined living on the shore with Quistis Trepe, saving to patch up his roof. The heart, when allowed, seemed to settle in mysterious ways.

"You are the laziest damn Chocobo I've ever seen," he told the bird, unwinding Helio's strap from his shoulder. Not that he had seen a lot of Chocobos, but the bird did sleep an awful lot.

The bird shot him a look that could only be called disdainful before returning to his upkeep, nibbling at his azure plumage with a lazy sort of purpose.

Quistis looked up as he set Helios on the kitchen table, the large sword clanging onto the wood. She was wearing a loose-fitting white skirt and a turquoise top that set off her eyes, padding around the hardwood floors in bare feet. He was reassured to find that there was no red paint on her.

"Those dogs of yours are currently dismembering a Grat in the front yard. It's like the fucking Nature Channel Gone Wild out there."

"Think of it as a cheap extermination system. Where were you? You were gone when I woke up." She turned, cursing at the toaster as she tried to dislodge a piece of smoking bread with a spatula.

"Errand for Garden," he replied easily, settling himself into a chair and hoping she didn't press the issue. "What's for breakfast?"

Her cheeks colored prettily. "Burnt toast, currently."

He grinned, winding his hands behind his head. "Excellent. Toast le charcoal. Your specialty."

She glared at him before abandoning the toast and plunking the toaster back onto the counter. "What kind of errand was it?"

He took one of the blackened slices in front of him and applied a liberal amount of jelly before shoveling a generous bite into his mouth. 'Toast le charcoal' was okay, if you could get past the layer of burnt.

"Just cleaning out the Training Center. Grats were breeding out of control again." He thought of the Grat in the front yard, being devoured by Styx and Cerberus- _that_ Grat was definitely never breeding again. As much as he pretended to hate the overgrown dumpsters, the dogs were great for lawn care.

Quistis heaped a spatula full of eggs onto his plate- these seemed to have turned out all right. Returning the pan to the stove, she returned with a plateful of bacon. This, too, seemed remarkably uncharred.

"Is Rajin here, by chance?" he asked, ducking as she swatted a dishtowel at him.

"No, you ass, I cooked this myself." She walked back to the sink, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she plunged her hands into the tub of bubbles and scrubbed at one of the platters. He paused between a forkful of eggs to appreciate the picture- her strawberry gold locks, highlighted by the sunlight- the curve of her form against the counter, and the bubbles floating in the air- she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before rinsing a plate under the tap.

He swallowed. "This's pretty good."

"I can cook _some_ things without burning them, you know," she snapped.

It occurred to him that Xu was wrong- they were incredibly different. Xu's heart was all hellfire and martensite, all metal and malice. She saw students daily that she would have to dispatch for death at a moment's notice, and it had hardened her already rock-solid heart. He'd once thought as she thought- that most men were bags of flesh and bone good only for throwing in front of a tank…the destiny was carved with swords and strength and grim determination. He couldn't quite place it, but something in him felt different- lighter, and somehow it all had to do with something as simple as Quistis washing dishes at the window.

"I know you can," he replied. "Anyway, I know you cooked this."

"How's that," she asked, suspicious.

He held up half an eggshell.

She turned the sink hose on him in response.

Much later, they lay out on the porch, her form piled between his legs and her head on his chest, dozing peacefully after a successful dinner of Balamb takeout. He felt her breath against his arm, mingled with the salt breeze….felt her heart thrum against the hollow of his own chest. Her hands were curled up against his stomach, and occasionally, a soft snore would escape her mouth. He trailed one foot along the wooden porch, swinging them softly to and fro. The dogs slept, sprawled out before the steps, and Glyph napped, too, his head tucked beneath his wing.

It had been a fairly normal day. They'd dried off after the water fight and taken a long, barefooted walk down the beach, shoes in hand. Quistis collected shells and polished beach glass in the folds of her skirt to add to her collection, and he'd tried to teach her to skip stones with little success. He had teased her about her ability, after which she had redirected her aim and the lessons had abruptly ended.

The dogs had followed after them as always, barking at any suspicious waves. They'd snapped leashes on the dog once they got to the weekend Farmer's Market. Quistis loved the Farmer's Market- the sights, and the smells- the colorful banners and swathes of fabric, the smells of fresh apples and jams and freshly cooked breads rising in the afternoon heat. She also liked the sounds of people talking and laughing, so different from the serious and sterile environment that Garden had provided.

They'd parted ways after arriving- Quistis went to look at fabrics, and he was left to his own devices. They'd each taken a dog with them- Seifer had taken Styx, as the dog had a lot more energy, and Cerberus tended to look at him in a way that suggested that he wanted to take Seifer's arm off.

Seifer had wandered through the bazaar, trying to ignore the constant stares. They weren't looking at him- with the cloaking chip in place, he was just a regular dark-haired, green-eyed man with no facial scars- nothing remarkable to look at. He didn't mind wearing the cloaking chip- it was an afterthought and not particularly cumbersome. It was Quistis that had had to get used to the difference. No, they weren't looking at him-they were staring at the dog, who had maxed out at a hulking 185 lbs, and was prone to frequent and terribly offensive bouts of drooling which, aimed at the wrong receiver, could drown a small child.

Bored, he'd wandered along the sea-side stands, which featured mainly craptacular overpriced shell jewelry strung on greenish silver chains and tarnished rings with warped and clichéd designs. One young woman, however, a pretty dark-haired girl, had a spread of polished glass jewelry that caught his eye. He'd never seen Quistis wear jewelry, save for the ring he had given her. Most of the girls he had gone out with had liked glittery things- Rinoa had favored garnets, and he knew most liked diamonds. Quistis, however, didn't seem like the 'glittery' sort- the plain, tasteful jewelry laid out on mauve fabric of the bazaar table seemed to suit her far better.

Leaning over, and holding Styx's leash tight to make sure he didn't lick any toddler's faces off, he picked up a small blue tear-drop pendant on a silver chain. The glass was dark and polished, and caught the light in a pool of color as stunning as Quistis' eyes. It reminded him of the ocean, of her dancing in the waves with her white sundress, the skirt spinning around her thighs and holding out her hand in invitation-

"How much?"

The girl smiled at him, bending over to examine the necklace he was holding. "Thirty rupees."

He fished in his pocket for a gil note as the girl wrapped the delicate necklace in tissue paper. He stuffed the small package into the pocket of his shorts, got his change, then went in search of Quistis.

Quistis waved when she saw him- she was carrying a small paper bag with some lunch provisions in it, as well as a brilliant red scarf draped across her shoulder. She grinned as she leaned forward, draping the scarf around his neck. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, standing back to admire the effect.

Seifer held the edge of the scarf up, frowning. "What's this for?"

She shrugged. "Nothing, really. I thought it would look nice on you."

He grinned at her. "Are you kidding? You _know_ everything looks nice on me."

She mock punched him- they started walking, and he reached over to entwine her hand in his. It was a simple pleasure, holding her hand, but one that gave him a quiet thrill. People passed them by without second glances- an old woman smiled at them. To anyone else, they looked like a happy couple leading two cow-sized dogs through a farmer's market, not an ex-terrorist and a crippled Class A SeeD leading two hellhounds around in the attempt to imitate a normal life.

He had kept the scarf on, though with the late summer heat, it made him sweat. Quistis was always getting him little gifts- a new scabbard for Helios, a new tool set when he busted his old one (although melted it would have been a better description), and whenever she went to the store, she got him a sackful of starfruits, because she knew he liked them. As a child who could not remember a birthday, the birthday celebrations she threw for him were new, and precious. He saved all her gifts, even those as simple as a seashell, because with the exception of Chu, Fujin, and Masa, he had never received gifts from anyone before, because no one had ever thought of him before. In the past, he had simply taken what he wanted from people. But to have it given…he found it was ten times better.

Seifer could not know that Quistis delighted in giving gifts as much, if not more, than he enjoyed receiving them. She had never before had someone that stood still long enough to allow her to care for them. While Seifer preened under her attention, she reveled in being allowed to give it. Away from Garden, allowed to reflect and to breathe, she found that underneath the scar tissue, and the soldier's steel of a heart, she found a struggling, underdeveloped nurturing side….and it was allowed to flourish here.

At the edge of the market, he reached into his shorts, pressing the small package into her hands.

She'd been inordinately pleased with the gift, and had put it on immediately. The small glass tear drop nestled in the hollow of her throat, and she fingered it and smiled at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Quistis had purchased two peaches and a wedge of soft white cheese to eat on the way back. The sweet juice from the peach had mixed well with the mellow tones of the cheese, and it was even sweeter on her lips.

Glyph had trailed along as well, and waited at the edge of the bazaar, bobbing his head (and scaring the shit out of tourists). The bird, in a good mood, had even consented to allow them to ride him back. Although Seifer would never admit it, there was something free about riding a Chocobo that couldn't compare to riding his bike- the powerful legs moving like pistons beneath you, the feel of the bird's heart pounding against your thighs, there was something primal and warm about the connection between himself and the bird.

Glyph's speed maxed out at about 30 miles an hour with two people on his back, but the feeling was still exhilarating, Quistis' hands gripping him from behind, her body flush against his an added bonus. It always surprised him how much he still wanted her, after two years- most women had bored him after one night. He supposed it was because he was forever learning- discovering things about her as she grew comfortable enough to reveal them. Her favorite color, her favorite TV show, the places she was most ticklish….her secrets occasionally swam up to the surface of her to peek out, like timid silver fish in dark water, like glimpses of gold in a riverbed.

They'd gotten back in the afternoon and Seifer had caught the latest Kri-Ball game (a very sad match of the Tromedian Thustrivals against the Balamb Adamantoise, which turned out to be a slaughter-slash-Balamb ass-kicking that Seifer had eventually found too painful to watch.) Not having much of a taste for Kri-Ball, Quistis had camped out at his feet during the game, flipping through her anatomy book as she jotted down some notes for her latest report. Afterwards, they'd watched a B grade movie that had featured a guest appearance by Laguna Loire, whose acting was so awkward and stiff that the President looked more like a walking ad for laxatives than a handsome store clerk trying to solve a murder mystery. Seifer had laughed so hard he had nearly choked on his beer, and Quistis had elbowed him, rolling her eyes as she tried to maintain a straight face out of respect for Squall's father.

Now camped out in the swing, Seifer's eyelids drooped. He fought sleep, trying to hang onto the moment, trying to condense the puff of her breath and the salt spray of the sea into one capsulated, enduring moment of peace-

His eyes slipped shut even as he tightened his arms around her, his foot brushing against one of the dog's backs.

A day like this was definitely better than any idiotic romantic dream he'd conjured up as a teenager. He pressed a kiss against her cheek, reveling in the quiet aftermath of a perfect day.

*  
…

…

…

Serabin considered himself a relatively simple man- he liked order, and quiet, and when time permitted, a glass of wine or the occasional odd novel on war theory. Tonight, he had the pleasure of both, reclined in his leather lounge chair, twirling a glass of expertly aged Merlot between his fingers as he perused Alia Xi's 'Blood and Martensite- The Dissection of a Modern Soldier". It was a rather romanticized read, but the wine was exceptional. He had stripped down to only the white button shirt that normally accompanied his dress jacket, a few of the buttons undone and his sleeves rolled to a comfortable length. His hair was down, and spilled loosely along the chair arm- he couldn't decide if he kept his hair long out of laziness or because the weight had a soothing quality to it, but he rarely wore it down. A fire crackled in front of him, and farther off, he was enjoying the soothing tones of 'Hyne's Symphony No. 5".

The man Serabin presented when relaxed was wholly different than the man that ran Galbadian Garden, and was now dipping his foot into the Estharian Presidential position- unlike the somewhat cool, stiff man that glided though the Senate, making the necessary alliances, this man held an air of relaxed indifference, one he only allowed himself when he was alone. In all honesty, Serabin regarded the transition from Headmaster to President a necessary evil- he would have to become immersed in politics to bring forth the military core he had come to believe was the world's solution to regional conflicts. The plan was deceptively simple- a single, core military institution enabled with the singular power to keep peace- a power that would be unavailable to the public. Over the years, Serabin had come to conclude that the control of people was a deceivingly simple task- concentrate the core of power in a way that would reassure and reinforce public safety with very few displays of aggression. He was as aware of anyone at the ability of power to corrupt, and believed that burden of power in the hands of few was infinitely better than power in the hands of many.

Folding the corner of a page detailing the conflict of macrocosmic vs. microcosmic entities within the modern man, Serabin set the somewhat interminable and pretentious book aside for a different night when he was less restless, or had drunk more wine.

Taking a sip of the merlot, he took a glance at his other arm, curling his fist to try to ease some of the ache out of the limb. To look at Serabin unguarded, it would become instantly apparent why the current Headmaster favored long sleeves and high collars- his arm was a bruised and somewhat hideous looking appendage whose wounds resembled intense crushing pressure exerted on the veins. His chest was no different- his normally flawless ivory flesh was decorated in bruises that snaked up his body like branches, splashing here and there into pools of deep sapphire color. Severe mag-burns and the hemorrhaging of several veins had caused the injuries, but the young man did not seem overly concerned, not even over the golf-ball sized hole in his arm that had been stitched back together twice now- the first and second rejection affects of the new materia. Soon, he had been told, the pain would fade, and the injuries would begin to procure tangible results. For now, a bottle of the four year old merlot would act as sufficient balm.

He flexed his hand, and to his amusement, a small heat gathered there- not enough to summon anything concrete, not _yet_, but _soon_-

The shrill noise of the phone interrupted the low, soothing cello notes of Serabin's record player, and the young man dashed an annoyed glance at the phone before snatching it and flipping it open.

"Yes?"

"We have the latest results from the tissue samples. As I expected, the rejection effects are beginning to fade." The cold, somewhat grating voice began with no preamble.

_Ah, _**Hojo**_._

"Only two or three more full emersions should be required before the spheres will take."

"Excellent." He replied, stretching his legs in front of the fire. "When will the next one be?"

"As soon as possible."

Serabin eyed the glass of wine in his hand, the rich red color sparking in the firelight. "Fine. Tomorrow night then. I've a meeting in Esthar two days from now, anyway. I'll make a detour."

"10 pm." With that, the line cut off abruptly. Serabin snapped his phone shut and tossed it onto the nearby table.

The brevity of the conversation suited Serabin fine. Like most people, Serabin found conversation of any length with Hojo distasteful and somewhat repellent. As anyone that spent more than five second in Hojo's company, Serabin had the distinct sensation that he was being dissected, critiqued, and found distinctly lacking.

Hojo had come into Serabin's life quite unexpectedly- as Serabin had told Quistis years ago, he had been working with the D.S. Research center as a volunteer lab rat for mag-graft experimentation. The process was slow-going, and somewhat painful- Serabin had been forced to take a myriad of antibiotic and repression therapies to prevent his body's rejection of the 'mag-chip' they'd installed in his arm, which, accompanied by the daily sickness, wore him down. The 'mag-chip' worked in remarkably the same way portable chemo therapy did- a small machine attached to his chip junctioned and unjunctioned a constant stream of weak magical current through his veins. The machine used a supply of nourished stem cells as a medial conduit for the energy to remain in stasis before activating in his flesh, recycling it through and through. The process was rudimentary, at best, and it made Serabin sick on a daily basis, but he was determined.

One day, however, he received an unexpected call from Hojo's laboratory, asking for a personal meeting. He'd agreed out of sheer morbid curiosity- Hojo was well-known in the scientific community as being somewhat of a monster. Still, Hojo's methods concerning mag-energy were also cutting edge- Serabin accepted the offer for dinner at the Esthar Hotel with little hesitation.

He remembered sitting at the table with Hojo and his lovely assistant Lucrecia, as well as a PR director whose name was of no significance whatsoever. Hojo, dressed in a suit and tie, looked somewhat out of place amongst the fine crystal and tasteful flower arrangements.

Hojo made introductions: Lucrecia Crescent, his assistant, and 'the hemorrhoid lawyer that the company now requires to accompany me at all public company functions'. Said lawyer looked vexed and balding, and immediately ordered a vodka on the rocks.

Serabin nodded to each in turn.

Hojo folded his hands, ignoring the waiter. "Sources tell me that you are undergoing radical treatments at the D.S. Research Center. Treatments that do not exactly fall under the radar of the Humane Science Act."

The lawyer looked horrified.

"You really don't waste preamble, do you?" asked Serabin, slightly amused.

Lucrecia colored slightly and quickly ordered a bottle of wine.

"Are my sources correct?" Hojo leaned forward slightly, the shine of his massive forehead becoming more pronounced in the candlelight.

"Perhaps, but any experimentation that occurs at the facility you've mentioned is completely voluntary, and thus falls under _my_ civil rights, not the Humane Science Act. I believe that it also falls under the realm of things that are not any of your business." Serabin raised an eyebrow. "This interests you?"

"Quite." Replied Hojo.

Silence pervaded the table. Lucrecia, clearing her throat, spoke up. "There are not many people, Mr. Glyphias, who would volunteer for such experimentation. Therefore, we would be interested in making you an offer."

"I am already well-serviced by the D.S. Research Center," replied Serabin, sitting back.

Lucrecia smiled- she was a far more effective mediator between Hojo and he than the blood-sucking lawyer that was now on his second drink. "We could offer you certain…incentives, Mr. Glyphias, which the D.S. Research Center is currently ill-equipped to offer."

"Such as?"

Hojo was running the pad of his thumb along his knife, clearly impatient with the pace of the meeting. "For one, the D.S. Research Center is an under-funded tin can with mediocre minds. My lab, my work is cutting edge- light years ahead of the '_mag-chip_'." Hojo spit out the last words as if they were distasteful to him.

Serabin took a sip of the wine as it was poured, ignoring the constant nausea in his stomach procured by the mag-chip's effects. "How many light years ahead?"

Hojo abandoned the knife and folded his hands. "I am months away from developing a new energy source- harnessing the very power of the draw points you no doubt are intimately familiar with. With that, comes unprecedented technology- emersion tanks, grafts, condensed energy able to be harnessed by the human body as easily as taking a pill-"

"-Our facilities are better-funded, and with our current research, you would experience much less discomfort," interrupted Lucrecia. "We have a common goal, Mr. Glyphias- the harness of sustainable energy for the benefit of mankind. We are making great progress." Lucrecia smiled. "You could be a part of it."

Serabin set his wine glass down. "I'm listening."

"Our facilities, as well as ourselves, are at your disposal," continued Miss Crescent. "You have simply to lend yourself, as you have so willingly done in the past."

Serabin could not have said whether or not it was the promise of faster progress or a reprieve from the constant illness that resulted from the chip that made up his mind, but weeks later, he stood in Hojo's laboratory, awaiting the next step. The mag-chip had been removed- aside from an occasional throb, the nausea and pain had faded.

He found himself in a large, spherical room, silent save for the thrum of the machines before him. There were 2 rows of large, six foot tanks in front of him, filled with bubbles and a turquoise liquid made nearly blinding by the floodlights beneath each tank. All tanks were empty- the wires and breathing apparatuses dangled in the jet stream. One particular tank was empty- Serabin supposed that to be the one intended for him.

"What you see in front of you is an Emersion Tank, powered by feed from our energy generators. We have discussed the benefits of total emersion as opposed to gradual exposure, so I will not repeat that particular content. The concentration of energy would be roughly 13%, in terms that you would understand."

"How did you arrive at that percentage?" he asked.

"Unsuccessful tests," replied Hojo. He did not elaborate, and Serabin was not sure he wanted to know, anyway.

"As the frequency of your emersion increases during the next few months, so too will the concentrations of energy. The company requires that I ask you if you have understood the Terms of Agreement as they have been presented."

"I do." It had been a nearly fifty page document absolving Hojo's company of the very real possibility of his death, drawn up by Hojo's 'parasite of a lawyer'.

"Good. Strip, then enter the chamber. Your emersion will be approximately five hours- you will be notified at the passing of each hour by the sound of an electric timer. You will be on oxygen, and your vitals will be constantly monitored. Please disrobe completely."

Serabin complied and soon stood before Hojo, naked save for the very real sense of foreboding that seemed to cover him like a cloak. Hojo's hands were cold and thin as they glanced against Serabin's skin- he resisted the urge to pull away as Hojo connected the heart monitors on his chest and inner thighs, and wound the breathing mask around his head.

Over time, Serabin would learn to control the spikes of panic that gripped him as the tank filled, and would learn to passively allow the violent spasms of his muscles as his skin drank in the solution. It was an odd sensation, cold, then almost unbearably hot, but over the next few months, there was only the coolness of the water and a numb, almost sated feeling of being half-asleep. The first time he had been immersed, he had fallen gasping out of the tank, throwing up until the bile in his stomach was flecked with blood. He had spent the first few days thereafter in a hospital bed, shaking uncontrollably and unable to keep anything down. It was like being born- a horrible, wrenching feeling that pulled on every cell in his body, causing him to retch and shake for hours on end.

Hojo did not seem to be discouraged, and simply informed him that it was part of the process of rejection, and would improve with time. Serabin, having come this far, was unwilling to abandon the experiment and therefore discredit the very real torture he had already put his body through.

And so, it continued.

After a year, the pain had faded, and even now Serabin's bruises were beginning to fade. In the wake of the heat and sickness he had felt, his body had seemed to settled into a sort of cold, restful calm- a peace that he could neither deny nor explain. Though Hojo's first attempts to insert the Materia into his form had met with intense resistance, Hojo maintained that it was only a matter of time- soon, his body could accept large, raw doses- soon, the Materia would be reformed enough to slip into his skin like a sphere of melted butter.

Serabin was well-aware of the prices of progress…but it had never been more than he was willing to pay.

Tomorrow, Serabin would strip naked, and one of the assistants, possibly Lucrecia, would attach the wires and perform the monitoring. Serabin found Lucrecia's company completely preferable to Hojo's- her hands were warm, gentle, and she never left the room, playing relaxing music and reading a book while she monitored his vitals, occasionally smiling and waving from her seat in the corner.

Lucrecia was, without a doubt, a beautiful woman, but Serabin felt no more for her than a very basic human consideration. He had seen many beautiful women throughout the past two years- they had decorated his arms at banquets, and trailed in and out of his bedroom on nights when it suited him. Still, he often found his mind wandering irritatingly often to one woman, who was currently residing in a house by the sea with another man. One Quistis Trepe, field doctor in training, now retired from active duty, living with a man that did not deserve her.

Serabin had no real quarrel with Seifer Almasy aside from the fact that he was living with the woman he desired- he found Seifer singular and charming, in the way one finds a junkyard dog charming- all earnest teeth. The man was all rough edges and held no real appreciation for the better points of refinement, a sovereign soul that refused to meld itself to the mechanisms of civilized society. Serabin had to admire that sort of voracity, even if he had no desire to emulate it.

Serabin had heard of Hojo's intent to contract Quistis for tissue samples- the thought stirred something in him that had not settled since. He was determined to schedule a visit during one of her trips- it had been months since he had seen her…far too long.

Quistis was a beautiful woman, to be sure, but Serabin considered looks to be an accident, not something earned or to be worn as an achievement. Besides, there were other women in the world who could boast the same caliber of beauty. There was something deeper, singular in Quistis that had captivated him the moment he met her- she was a mercenary in her duty and in her loyalty, and yet in her heart she was incapable of being a true soldier- her heart was too soft, too empathetic, too in need of others. She was intelligent, self-sacrificing (a flaw he was willing to overlook), and had moments of unguarded joy that were fascinating to watch. She was a paradox, a puzzle, and he had always enjoyed a challenge. Quistis knew the social mechanisms that governed necessities such as military galas, and could navigate them effortlessly- yet she wore a definitive distaste for politics beneath her social graces that amused and captivated him. She could debate politics, but was equally content to surrender to a soldier's simplicity. And she had her share of pain, as he did. She was a wounded bird that kept her feathers splayed so beautifully over the wound that you forgot she was wounded at all.

There were things in front of him now that would make pursuing her impossible, but it was a duty he intended to undertake, and soon.

But, first there was the matter of the presidential election, and the need to complete the operation.

Hojo's assurance that only two or more emersions would be needed was encouraging- gratifying- the end was in sight. Soon, his goals would be in sight. Come tomorrow night, he would be a step closer to achieving them, floating in the pale blue water and surrounded by the necessary pain of progress.

Soon, OPERATION: SOLDIER would be complete, and there would be other things to think of.

_Him and the water, out of the darkness of memory._ _There was the ocean- the steady, even lap of the waves, the soft roar of air and water. In, out….in…out. Like a breath…a heartbeat._

_Have to go to the water. _

**Meet you in the water.**

_Was it her voice? Was it her?_

_He started towards the waves, but something held him back, pulling hard in his skull and on his skin. He was held still, held down as the scenery whirred by him, and suddenly, the flower field._

**I'll be there…so if you go there….**

**I'll be waiting….**

_But the flowers were dead._

_She wasn't there._

**Squall….**

_The murmur seemed part of the wind, a whisper that teased his ears as it blew by._

_The wind picked up in response to the sound, a now almost painful whip against his back. _

_Blackened petals, torn from their flowers, spiraled up in the wind like helicopters. Dandelion puffs, caught up in the wind's ruthless onslaught, were blown apart, the delicate spheres releasing their seeds in one violent explosion. The puffs blew up, higher and higher at the wind's mercy, disappearing into the crimson sky, which seemed to throb like a cursed heart. The sound was deafening, and he was running now, running, desperate to find her but she was gone and the flowers were dead-_

_He called her name-_

"_Yes, Squall?"_

_-and suddenly the wind was still, and the roar had faded from his ears. She was standing in the field, amongst the blackened flowers, her hair a slice of dark silk ribboning in the soft breeze. _

"_I knew you would come."_

_He said her name again, and she turned to him-_

_But she was not wearing a face. There was a piece of black, dripping darkness over her visage, a pulsing, shrieking dark that drew him in-_

Squall Leonhart sat up in his bead, his shirt soaked through with sweat and his heart in his throat. He noticed two things immediately- one, he was in his own bed, at the seaside cottage, in a room that did not move or scream.

The second thing he noticed was his wife's absence.

He swung his legs over the bed, walking down the narrow hallway and pausing to peek in one of the doors. His son Zak was sleeping in his bed, a plush Moomba gripped tightly in his arms. He walked in, softly, and pulled his blankets up over his shoulders- Zak took a deep breath, rolled over, and fell immediately back into a deep sleep. Had his sleep ever been so untroubled? He couldn't remember, but he doubted it.

He closed the door, and walked out into the main room. He did not have to wonder where she was-finding her was as simple as closing his eyes, opening the door from his heart to hers. It was a romantic notion, but the simplest he could conceive of to describing their bond. Her mind skirted the edge of his in every second of every day- it was a pressure in his skull that he could not remember not having, a ball of string that unwound from his brain to hers, constantly tugging back and forth and back again.

The night air was chilly on his skin as he walked down the cobblestone path, and he immediately regretted not grabbing a jacket. Grasses and a few skeleton-like trees waved in the breeze, a dull whisper ghosting through the island.

She stood knee-deep in the water, her white nightgown half-swimming in the gentle waves that coasted in. She was staring straight ahead, her fingers dipping just slightly into the waves. Her mind was numb, reeling- from what he couldn't gather. The stars were brightest here- a spread of light that lit the sky around them in a milky haze against the dark waves.

Rinoa took another step forward- the water climbed to her waist.

He said her name, but she did not turn.

Heedless of the chill of the ocean, he followed her in. If she heard his approach, she gave no indication, but continued to trail her hands along the water. He moved to put his hands on her shoulders, but stopped just short of her. "Was it the dream again?"

She did not turn her gaze from the water, but inclined her head, sighing.

"What is it?" he asked her, half terrified of the answer.

She turned, slowly. The moon wavered across the ocean, but it did not touch her eyes. She got that look sometimes- like she was looking at another world, another time…a world that did not involve him in the slightest. It was times like this, in his sickest despair, that he marveled at the inadequacy of love- that it could not anchor her to him, could not ground her-

-that it could not save her.

_She was getting worse._

"Rinoa."

Her eyes, dark and dreamless, suddenly lightened, and she became herself again. She seemed to become aware, slowly, of the ocean at her hips, the night sky above her. Her face slipped from its mask into first surprise, then confusion, then a kind of soft anguish that pierced him.

"It was so dark." Was all she said, walking into his arms, slipping her arms around him and resting her head against his chest. "It was so dark, and no one was there…I couldn't get out, I couldn't find you…"

"I'm here. I'll always be here."

She shook her head against his chest, and he could feel her tears, hot through his thin cotton shirt. "It's trying to leave me. I can feel it, churning…waiting…it's restless…it wants to go." she took a shuddering breath, her eyes piercing his. "You'll leave, too, won't you?"

"Never," he whispered fiercely against her hair. "Never."

"I'm slipping…I'm losing it…you can feel it too, can't you?" she whispered, her voice wavering. "You'll leave me-"

"I won't leave you." He said softly, with a calmness he did not feel. Her mind was a turbulent wreck- he could feel the shards of it against his consciousness, a kind of screaming pressure that did not relent. The human part of him wanted to resist her, to shut her out, but the stronger part, the part that loved her, wanted to ease her suffering at the expense of his own. He let her in, let the screaming in, a jumble of voices and visions that had no meaning to him, and then soon, it faded to quiet, faded to the waves on the sand and the sound of his breath in her ear.

"Promise me." She said, softly.

"I promise," he whispered. He would have promised her anything.

She smiled, but her heart was unmoved by his words. There were some promises he could not keep, just as there were some places he could not go with her. His love, his words, were a temporary salvation, and the love behind him was as eternal as his flesh could make it- but the limitations on those words were an undercurrent that never left her mind for long.

Her eyes were open. They stared, unblinking, out into the dark, at the milk-light of the moon and the soft sway of the stars.

But her eyes held no glow.

"It was so cold," was all she said. "The water…just…hold onto me." And then she became boneless against him. She did not sob, but let her tears fall silently down her cheeks, in the hopes he wouldn't see.

Holding her, they sunk down into the water, Squall's arms tight around her, her hands fisted in his shirt.

Squall stared up at the stars, a kind of aching desperation in his gaze as the water closed around them. He looked for the sunrise, but dawn was long yet in coming.

_Just a little longer, please… a little longer…_

They clung to each other as though they were drowning.

In a way, they were.

It was the play of light against his eyelids that woke him. His eyes flickered open, body tensing for a moment before he realized his surroundings, the information flashing lightning quick in his skull. 5am. The Sea Shack. The window was open, and his bare skin was chilled. Girlfriend must have opened it during the night.

Girlfriend. His body tensed as he absorbed her absence (and the 300lb weight of the combined dogs) from the mattress. He spread his hand along the space next to him- the mattress was cold, and the bottom sheet was missing. She'd been gone a long time. He rolled out of bed, walking out into the hallway as he pulled up the waistband of his sweatpants. "Quistis?"

"Quistis?" The kitchen was empty, and there was no jingle of tags. Sunlight was beginning to stain through the curtains. If the dogs were outside this early, then so was she.

The screen door banged shut behind him. He looked to the porch swing, expecting to see her curled up with her morning coffee. The swing was empty, and instead of being curled up next to it, Glyph was sitting up, staring out at the water, cooing strangely.

Something wet nudged at his hand, and he looked down to see Styx. The dog let out a low whine, then looked out to the beach, his tail banging like a weed-wacker against Seifer's thigh.

When he did find her, the image she presented hit him like a fist in the gut.

She was standing by the shore, the white cotton sheet wrapped around her and billowing in the wind like a ghost, revealing bare flesh beneath. The morning stained her skin a soft gold, highlighting her hair in the crimsons and peaches of the rising sun. Her hair, nearly waist-length now, was loose around her, the strands picking up the soft breeze.

Cerberus was sitting next to her, looking up at his mistress with an expectant look on his face.

As he watched, she took a step into the water, the sheet trailing behind her and quickly becoming wet.

Slowly, he walked towards her, bewildered. Quistis had made him a naked breakfast in bed once, had spent a blissful and particularly hot day in her underwear when they'd worked on airing out the attic, but she'd never walked naked onto the beach that he knew of…it was unlike her. Glancing around, he was grateful that they lived on a particularly isolated slice of beach, with the next place being miles away.

"Quistis!"

She still didn't turn, but took another step forward, now knee-deep in the water. The waves splashed at her knee-caps, spraying water onto her chest. She did not flinch.

She did not blink.

_Was she sleepwalking?_

_Was she _**nuts**_?_

He waded in after her and touched her shoulder, and she turned to him, a blank look in her eyes.

"Quistis." He said her name quietly this time, shaking her. Her skin was cold. How long had she been _out_ here?

She blinked. Confusion, surprise, and then a soft smile touched her face. "Good morning," she said calmly, as if the situation were perfectly normal.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he asked, worry making his words sharper than he would have liked.

Her smile slipped from her face. She looked around her, taking in her surroundings. A faint pink stain rose in her cheeks, and she drew the sheet tighter around her breasts. "I…must've been…"

**I was waiting.**

"Sleepwalking?" he supplied.

**I was waiting, and the dark was waiting-**

She frowned. "I must have….I don't remember…It was-" She stopped herself before she could say 'the dream again'.

"It was what?"

"Nothing." She said, clutching the sheet even tighter. "I must have had a strange dream….to wander..."

"Come on." He said, putting an arm around her. "Let's go get dressed. I've got some shit to do today, then I'm taking you out to the Blue Crush."

"The Blue Crush?" she quirked an eyebrow, trying to lighten the situation. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, yet," he replied.

Cerberus trailed behind them both, carrying the sopping end of Quistis' sheet in his mouth like a train.

Seifer glanced behind him as he led Quistis into the house, staring out at the horizon.

That Seifer and Squall's gaze would have met across an ocean would comforted neither man.


	9. Complications

A/N: It's been awhile, but no, I haven't forgotten about this story. The chapters should be coming with some regularity from now on, lest the curse of writer's block afflict me halfway through. If you're still reading, it's a pleasure to have you along! Just an update- I've gone back and revamped the earlier chapters, changed a few things, and done a little editing. You may want to have a look. Oh, and kudos to those of you who recognize what Rinoa's writing.

....The next time I get the brilliant idea to do a crossover, I'm going to go upside my own head.

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Well, except for Serabin. I sort of own his ass.**

**Chapter 6- Complications**

_"Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster; if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." _-**Friedrich Nietzsche**

…

…

..

.

Since she was a child, Quistis had known herself to be a fast learner. That skill still held today; for example, Quistis had learned very quickly that the best way to handle her situation at EuGen would be to ignore Hojo's presence in the way one would ignore and irksome and persistent fly, to file him away as a necessary evil of her current contractual conditions. However, she had also learned very quickly that she was absolutely no good at it whatsoever. The man got under her skin, literally and figuratively, with or without her consent.

Already bristling, she stalked down the main hallway, her briefcase tucked under her arm.

There was a flurry of activity around the normally calm lab, and lab technicians shuffled by her in packs, carrying loops of chord and clipboards. Scientists wove in and out of rooms, chattering excitedly and comparing print-outs. Quistis glanced around curiously, but could see no apparent reason for the excitement.

Lucrecia was the first to greet her in the lobby, which was a welcome change from the one-man unwelcome wagon she was usually privy to. "Quistis! It's so nice to see you again. How have you been?"

"Fine, thank you." Quistis smiled politely, wishing she could say the same on all accounts. As much as she liked seeing Lucrecia, seeing Lucrecia also usually meant seeing Hojo, and it always meant losing another quart of blood, two things she wasn't particularly thrilled about. "What's going on around here?" she asked, allowing Lucrecia to take her coat.

The pretty scientist's cheeks were flushed with enthusiasm. "Oh, it's very exciting! A number of months ago, Dr. Gast discovered a specimen in the North while he was trying to dig up some evidence for his thesis. It's very, very old, and almost perfectly preserved. We're just connected her to the Biotanks, in fact, and she seems to be thawing nicely." Lucrecia lead her down the hall, her long hair weaving against her white lab coat. "Gast of course hopes that she'll be the proverbial key to his theory, but I think it's simply exciting to have access to such an old specimen. It will be something to sequence the genome, to figure out which line she's from….but listen to me, going on and on! Would you like to see her? Hojo can wait a few more minutes, I'm sure!"

Quistis would have gladly attended a Pin-In-Eye convention just to put off Hojo. Seeing a new specimen sounded even better.

Quistis smiled. "Yes, thank you, I'd like that."

"There's restricted clearance right now, until we get her completely set up and stabilized." Lucrecia swiped her clearance card at a room at the end of a long hallway, and gestured Quistis inside.

The room was dark and empty save for the light of the Biotank and a few floodlights, which cast an eerie, fluctuating green glow against the walls. Her gaze was instantly drawn to the figure that swayed in the bubbles, caught between the spherical tank lights like a spotlight-

-to **it**.

Lucrecia fiddled with one of the dials. "Gast believes she may be one of the old peoples that came out of Cetra and whose culture was so heavily dependent on magic and living-Gaia theory."

"Yes, I've read Gast's latest publications," replied Quistis. "My mentor, Kadowaki, is quite a fan."

The thing in the tank had pale, almost translucent skin, and long, nearly white hair. The part not tapered down by the helmet spiked upwards in the flow of water, billowing in the bubbles.

The metal headpiece had been secured on her head like a crown, with wires and tubes running from nearly every angle and feeding into machines. A large purple tube had been fastened into the specimen's stomach, and seemed to feed in a steady stream of liquid from one of the tanks off to the side. A coil of intestine spilled out from beneath the tube and ribboned in the water, while, farther back, large coils made up of a dark purple viscera-like material spiraled into something resembling half-formed wings.

The thing twitched, and Quistis startled, nearly tripping over a cluster of wires in her attempt to back up.

Lucrecia's hand was on her shoulder. "Just a settling effect, I assure you! She's only been in the tank a short time- it's just a residual synaptic effect from the electricity. Isn't she beautiful?"

"But…what…is it? What's _wrong _with it?" she breathed, her heart hammering in her chest, the rush of her blood nearly drowning out Lucrecia's answer. There were human parts in that tank, but also an entanglement of viscera which resembled nothing she had ever seen before.

Lucrecia smiled. "We're not sure, exactly. Initial DNA screenings indicate humanoid DNA, but there are certain obvious…anomalies that cannot be accounted for yet. The specimen will have to be sampled, and studied…we've never seen mutations like those before, even in organs that have been exposed to extensive mako radiation. It's very exciting, to say the least!" The young woman bent over the tank, adjusting another dial and noting something on her clipboard.

Quistis took a step forward, peering closer at the creature. One eye was obscured by her pale hair, forced down by the helmet, but the other eye glowed, a pink, piercing flow of light that seemed to focus on the door- on the two women in front of it. Quistis cocked her head, her lips parted slightly as she leaned in closer.

**Closer.**

Her head was pounding.

She put a hand to her temple, and staggered forward, the scene in front of her lurching.

**There was the tank, the thing in the tank in the lab-**

**-there was the flower field, rushing up, condensing in her skull, crushing, crushing pain, a heavy wall pulling in and pulling out, slamming her back into the room, the dark room with the pale green light ribboning off the walls-**

Lucrecia smiled at Quistis' response, seeming to think she was enraptured like the other scientists. "It almost seems as if she's looking at you, doesn't it? The light is artificial, of course; part of an illumination grid Gast is running to assess the previous organ function, stomach contents, things of that nature. Still, it's a bit unnerving, isn't it?"

The thing was hideously beautiful, and seemed to hold a kind of savage elegance, even dead, a kind of defiance in the water that shone out from the calm, patient-looking face. The thing may have been a woman, once, breasts and legs shapely in the water, the core of her femininity shielded by the large tube that twisted into her stomach, but it was something else, now, something more-

**Waiting-**

Never taking her eyes from the creature, Quistis moved forward, her eyes narrowing-

She put out her hand, her fingers reaching, straining towards the glass as she looked up into the thing's single awful eye-

-and woke up in a cold leather reclining chair, a wet compress on her head. Her shoulder ached, and numbly, she pressed her hand against it, trying to sit up.

"I would not sit up just yet," came the cold, thin voice above her.

She collapsed back into her chair. Hojo. Fuck it all.

"What…happened…" She murmured, her mouth like cotton and her head banging with terrible singularity.

"You passed out. Lucrecia was most concerned, said you began seizing and then fell unconscious."

Seizing?

"I've never…"She gripped her arm, her fingers ghosting over the small bandage on her shoulder. "What…did you give me?"

Hojo tossed the needle into a biohazard box. "Valium Phenobarbital and Dilantin, along with an anti-vertigo medication. And this-" he picked up another needle off the cart, "A small amount of insulin next, I think. We'd like to see how your glucose uptake rates functions when cytoplasmic insulin is increased. Is this amenable to you?"

"Does it matter?" replied Quistis dourly, catching Hojo's smile in the reflective surface of the lab window.

Hojo withdrew a small vial from one of the fridges, holding the bottle up to the light to examine the liquid.

She turned in her seat to cast a level gaze at Hojo. "I understand you're collaborating with Odine."

Hojo lifted an eyebrow. The collaboration was not public knowledge.

_I've been doing my research, too, Hojo_**, **thought Quistis.

Hojo shrugged, tapping a syringe. "He's a useful pet."

"He's dangerous," replied Quistis. "He's also unstable. You had access to the Tri-Garden Council hearing transcripts. You've seen the things he's done. He doesn't work for anyone but himself."

Hojo adjusted his glasses, seemingly immune to the barb. "Who Odine thinks he works for is of no concern to me, so long as he produces results that are useful."

"I imagine that attitude extends to everything, doesn't it?" asked Quistis. "Morality sacrificed for the sake of progress, isn't that your personal motto?"

Hojo's dark eyes fastened on her as he swabbed her arm, his touch as cold as the alcohol cloth. "Very perceptive, and awfully idealistic for a mercenary, don't you think?" He chuckled. "And they say you SeeDs are nothing but advanced orphan triggers. "

Quistis balled her fist, returning his gaze. "Would you like to know what they say about **you**?"

Hojo tapped the syringe, pushing a tiny amount of liquid out with his thumb. "I can't say as I'm particularly interested. Fortunately popular opinion does not dictate my funding," replied the doctor, pushing yet another syringe into her arm with what Quistis considered unnecessary vigor. She refused to give him the satisfaction of wincing.

"What about sanctions imposed for human rights violations?" she muttered. "Do those interest you?"

Hojo threw back his head and laughed, a shrill sound that caused the hair on her arms to rise. "You'd be amazed, Ms. Trepe, how much the governments are willing to overlook, even fund, to acquire my company's favor." A smirk remained on the doctor's face as he gazed at her. "There are many who share my motto. In fact, would you like to see for yourself? It was you own cells that made my progress possible, after all."

Something uneasy squirmed in Quistis at hearing that.

Hojo removed the syringe, and Quistis curled her arm, raising it above her head in a now practiced gesture. "I would love to," she replied. "I'm most interested in your means of extraction…it relates to the topic of my thesis, actually." Quistis took the very colossal dislike she had for the man, and steamrolled it aside. She wanted to see Hojo's new technology, and if it meant spending more time in Hojo's company, it was a necessary sacrifice. She waited as he put the series of vials into a small fridge, and marked something off on his clipboard.

"Very well. On your next visit, I will arrange for your transportation out to the extraction site. Even if I am not there, there should be a scientist on site to answer any and all questions for your little…book report."

"Thank you," replied Quistis. After the doctor had left, she massaged her arm, which seemed especially prickly. She felt drained, irritated, and incredibly confused. A seizure…and the first time she was here, that splitting headache in the generator…

Quistis let her hair fall back against the chair. She was apparently allergic to the whole damned place.

....

Since Xu had become Headmistress, Squall's required time at Garden was growing blessedly less frequent. His presence was required for the larger missions, for debriefing and for planning, and it was his duty to allot and spend the annual military budget, something he found rather enjoyable (after all, who didn't enjoy buying a couple gross of explosives every few months?) Between missions, however, he could always be found at the seaside cottage, spending time with his wife and child, trying to figure out how a normal life was supposed to be lived.

Rinoa had little trouble settling in to a quiet life, and quickly took to domesticity as easily as a fish to water. With Edea's permission, she had renovated the small cottage, adding a few extra rooms and widening the space to accommodate three adults and three (soon four) children. The Magitek children slept in one wing with Edea, while Rinoa, Squall, and Zack occupied the other half of the house. It was a pleasant arrangement, and worked well for everyone. When Rinoa was not indoors, seeing to the house, she could be found outside, tending to her garden. She loved the flowers, she said, and the activity relaxed her.

Before their marriage, Rinoa had received several acting contracts, owing to both her fame and her looks. She had happily starred in several plays and movies, and became something of a public figure for a time. It was a chance, she said, to improve public perception, but Squall also knew it was because a small part of Rinoa, perhaps the part that belonged to her mother, thrived in the spotlight. Then Zack had come along, however, and Rinoa had happily set aside her acting career to take on the role of mother, one that seemed as natural as any to her.

Today, after taking care of a plumbing problem in the sink, Squall found both Rinoa and Zack in the study. Zack was curled up on the couch, taking his afternoon nap and clutching his stuffed Moomba to his chest. He looked uncannily like his mother in those rare moments of peace, his features soft and almost delicate-looking.

Rinoa sat at the desk at the window, bent over a sheath of paper. Her pen moved in rapid circles and loops, and every so often, she stopped to glance over what she had written. She seemed more peaceful than she had been in a while, more tranquil, and he was grateful for it.

He swept her long hair aside, pressing a kiss against her neck as he read over her shoulder.

_"The infinite mystery  
The gift of the goddess is what the three men seek  
But their fates are scattered by war_

_One is taken captured, one flies away  
And the last becomes a hero_

_But the three are still bound by a solemn oath  
To seek the answer together, once again....."_

"What are you writing?" he asked her.

She turned to look at him, smiling. "A play. I have so much time these days, and I thought, before the baby comes, I might try my hand at writing. I still have some contacts in the business, and if they like it, who knows what could happen?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "What do you think?"

"Heroes, fates, war...aren't you a little sick of all that?" he asked, his lips curving in a smile as he nuzzled her neck.

Rinoa shrugged. "Those are the great themes of humanity, silly! Who could get sick of those?"

Squall rolled his eyes at her. "How does it end?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Ah, ah! I'm not telling. You'll just have to wait and see."

.......

It was two o' clock in the morning in the underground lab, and all other staff had been long gone for hours. For the two men that remained, however, the night was still young. In fact, their arguments could still be heard throughout the long, empty tunnels of the basement.

"What do you mean, you don't see a connection? I would think that you, of all people, would appreciate the relevance of these findings." Gast removed his reading glasses, rubbing at his eyes. "If you look at the literature, there are several parallels between the Hynian theology and the Cetra's tales of the Great Calamity of the Skies. There is the use of para magic by the celestial being, the great betrayal-"

Hojo set down his scalpel and laughed, a shrill and razor-sharp sound that never failed to grate on Gast's ears. "And you think this creature you hauled out of the ice is what? Do you actually think you have discovered a _God_, Gast?"

"I think," said Gast, stuffing his glasses into his shirt pocket, "That we are standing on the stuff of legend, and all you can think of is playing God yourself."

"And I think," replied Hojo, pressing a label onto a test tube before adding it to the rack. "You are too caught up in children's stories to care much for progress. You should have been a grave robber, Gast, not a scientist. This thesis of yours is entirely irrelevant to our company's current directions."

"Irrelevant? This specimen could have been one of the Ancient Cetra! Initial testing already proves that her marrow concentrations show high probability of mako poisoning, of cellular degeneration common in mako exposure over a prolonged period. This lends credibility to the idea of para-magic use in early civilization, to advancement, to say nothing of the concentrations present in the tissue after this length of time-"

Hojo held up another test tube to the light, swirling its contents before noting something on his clipboard. He then selected a few of the test tubes in the rack to his left, placing them into the centrifuge in front of him. "Most of what you call the ancient Cetra were buried in the eastern Catacombs, adorned with numerous ceremonial artifacts. What explanation can you offer as to why this specimen was found alone, with no ceremonial dressings whatsoever?"

"An outcast, perhaps, or a-"

"Exactly. An outcast," droned Hojo boredly, selecting a bottle of detergent from the shelves. "Certainly not a God, and certainly not definitive proof of a race of Ancients, whatever that foolish woman has been whispering in your ear late at night."

"Leave Ifalna out of this." Gast clenched his jaw for a moment as he stared across the table at Hojo, his eyes flashing. Just as suddenly, however, his shoulders slumped, and he let out a small sigh. "Have you made any progress with the tissue I extracted?"

"None yet," replied Hojo. "I'm having difficulty with the biomedium solution- the concentrations are off and the tissue has partial necrosis."

"Perhaps a mistake in Odine's writings?"

Hojo shrugged. "We'll see. Anyway, it's time I paid Odine another visit."

Gast lifted an eyebrow. "I see, so he's cooperating, now?"

"I would not exactly call it cooperation. The quality of Odine's current accommodations is directly proportional to how accommodating he is to our research. Any information Odine gives us is in his own self-interest, and must be appreciated as such."

Gast switched on his computer, laying his notes out in front of him. "I'm afraid I must state my continued discomfort in collaborating with the man, to say nothing of using his techniques."

"Your discomfort is continually noted," replied Hojo, switching on the centrifuge and filling the lab with a loud, continuous hum.

"And continually ignored," muttered Gast, turning back to his computer.

The next few hours were filled with the sound of Gast's typing, and occasional hum of Hojo's lab equipment. The silence was commonplace, and preferable to both men. In fact, a great deal of their ability to work with one another depended on their ability to ignore the other's presence.

The rear lab doors swished open, admitting a tall and towering figure. The young man was still wet from the Mako tanks, and running a hand through his still-damp hair.

"Ah, Serabin," said Gast, looking up from his monitor. It was always a little disquieting to look at the young man at first, to see the almost inhuman glow of his blue eyes amidst his silver hair and pale complexion. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you, Dr. Gast," replied the young man, finishing the last buttons on his shirt. "How is your research progressing?"

"Slowly, I am afraid," replied the scientist, smiling.

Serabin adjusted his cuffs. "I had the pleasure of reading your paper on the Cetra culture and its significant proximity to known Draw Points. Very interesting."

"Thank you. I'm pleased you enjoyed it."

Hojo had switched off his centrifuge, and looked at the young man with interest. Serabin noticed his scrutiny immediately, and inclined his head politely in the doctor's direction. Serabin, despite his poorly concealed distaste for the doctor, always observed his manners.

"Lucrecia has been kind enough to take the readings already," he said, as the doctor approached.

"Your arm," said Hojo, without preamble.

With a bored expression that masked inconvenience, Serabin rolled up his sleeve. Gast hid a grimace- the young man's forearm was a mix of bruise and blister that seemed to circle and spread from a very nasty, gaping wound just above his wrist.

Hojo, true to form, was merciless as he examined the area, palpating the flesh around the wound with interest. "Draw it out," he ordered.

His gaze on Hojo, Serabin held his other hand over the wound and, tensing his arm, seemed to summon a small, glowing green sphere from beneath his skin. The sphere hovered a moment before Serabin's fist closed around it.

Gast gaped at them both for a moment. This...this was what Hojo was working on?

To Gast's relief, he and Hojo were not required to collaborate on many projects. They both had access to each other's research, but admittedly, Gast looked through Hojo's only out of necessity. Gast knew that Hojo was working mostly to further the company's military holdings, but...

Hojo took the materia from Serabin, examining both the now empty wound and the small piece of condensed materia, turning the marble-sized object in his fingers. "Interesting, but I'd like to try something different. The scarring is...cosmetically undesirable, and tests show that other soldiers do not have your....tolerance....for prolonged raw exposure in deep tissue." Still holding the piece of materia, Hojo walked over to a corner of one of his lab stations, picking up a crude metal cuff. "Hold out your other wrist."

As Serabin rolled up his other shift cuff, Hojo snapped the silver bracelet onto his arm. There were several small, spherical grooves shaped into the metal, each with a small hole on the bottom of each groove to allow the materia contact with the skin. Hojo placed the materia sphere into one of the grooves. It glowed for a moment, then grew dull.

"Come back in a week or two so that we may measure the effects and run a comparison with the direct contact." said Hojo. "Later on, we can test its effectiveness in actual trials, when your body has had some time to recover from the immersion."

Gast glanced at the other wound on Serabin's arm, from which a small trickle of blood was now seeping. "You should probably put flush some peroxide in the wound, twice daily, and some triple antibiotic ointment around the external affected area three times a day."

"Noted, thank you doctor." Serabin rolled down his sleeves. "How are the tests on Ms. Trepe progressing?"

"Slowly," replied Hojo irritatedly. "She's a difficult specimen."

Serabin raised an eyebrow at Hojo. Hojo was perhaps deliberately ignorant of social cues, but Gast was not. There was a hint of protectiveness in Serabin's expression, as well as something darker.

"Miss Trepe is a friend of yours?" asked Gast, glancing over as he shut down his computer.

"You might say that," mused Serabin. "I remember her quite fondly from our shared time at Balamb. What is it you plan to do with the samples you're extracting from her?"

"Miss Trepe, like yourself, is contributing to this lab's advancement with military and medical contracts," replied Hojo vaguely.

Serabin looked bemused. "And does Miss Trepe know this?"

"It is my understanding," said Hojo boredly, "That Miss Trepe wishes to remain as uninvolved in the process as possible."

"I can sympathize," replied Serabin, chuckling at Hojo's frown.

Having fastened his cuffs, Serabin nodded to each of them. "It is late. Please excuse me Hojo, Gast." Picking up his coat from one of the lab stools, he threw it over his shoulder, striding out the side door.

"The other subjects in Glyphias's testing group," said Gast. "They're dead, aren't they?"

Hojo's gaze was blank as he picked up his clipboard again. "I don't recall saying that. I remember stating that the test group was...unresponsive."

_And I know enough about your testing methods to know what 'unresponsive' means_, thought Gast to himself.

Gast looked after him. "Exactly how many of the test subjects were... unresponsive, then, to the therapy?"

"All of them."

"Does Glyphias know?"

"Glyphias, like Miss Trepe, is on a need-to-know basis."

And like me, thought Gast bitterly. "If Glyphias knew he was the only one to survive the initial trials, he would most likely end his participation and his funding."

"Precisely," replied Hojo, marking a page in his notes, "Why he doesn't need to know." Grabbing another notebook, Hojo headed towards the exit.

"You look troubled, Gast," said Hojo, pausing at the doors, "The news that Test Group C, like its predecessors, was unresponsive to the therapy...it should please you. It certainly lends credibility to your theory that certain...phenotypes...are more resistant to magical strain than others, at any rate."

"By the way, I'm taking a trip out to the extraction site tomorrow, with our new investors. I'm to inform you that this time, your presence is required, not requested." With that, Hojo was gone.

Gast sat motionless in the lab so long that the sensor lights plinked off, one by one, leaving him in total blackness.

Trials A and B...unresponsive...collaborations with Odine on tissue regeneration....the continued tests on Glyphias....

He chuckled.

A world of progress at his fingertips, and he was finding he would rather be left in the dark.

.....

…

..

"Try BRAINZ, the caffeinated drink that gives you brain power, for longer! Remember, BRAINZ: You've either got it, or you doesn't!"

Irvine Kinneas was sprawled out on the small couch in Selphie's room, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he flipped the channels. Zell sat next to him, the balls of his feet bouncing on the floor as both of them men impatiently waited for Selphie to get dressed, an event that required a significant amount of time and patience on the part of everyone involved.

"Selph- hynedamn, hurry up!" shouted Irvine, which was met with a few choice words from behind the bathroom door.

"We gotta meet Quistis for lunch soon, before she leaves!" shouted Zell. "C'mon, Selph, you always look nice anyway!" Zell's efforts were more subtle where Selphie was concerned, and usually met with less spirited resistance. Then again, Selphie's refusal to listen to Irvine may have had more to do with his latest indiscretion with a member of the library staff. Irvine maintained that the encounter was 'harmless'...while Selphie continued to maintain other ideas.

"What time did Quisty say she was going to be done with her tests?"

"About 12:30." said Zell. "She said to grab her a sandwich or somethin' from the cafeteria, and we'd eat out in the Quad."

"Roger that," said Irvine, continuing to flip through the channels.

"-try Balamb Cola, it's refreshing and-"

"-announced the merger today-"

"-caught you cheating again, you-"

Zell frowned. "Hold on, switch back."

"What, to _As Garden Turns_? No way. Since Carlee got abducted by aliens, the show's really gone downhill-"

"No, idiot, the news." Snapped Zell, mouthing 'Garden Turns?' at him.

"Selphie used t'make me watch it." Irvine smacked the back of his head and turned around, switching through the channels again.

"Suuuuure she did," mumbled Zell, rubbing the back of his neck.

"-the merger between Shinra Weapons and EuGen marks the fifth of the company's recent large-scale acquisitions, which included the Advent Law Firm and the nearly bankrupt AmmuCorp. AmmuCorp took a financial nosedive two years ago after court documents linked it to the Third Sorceress Conflict. President Rufus Shinra expressed his hopes at the press conference held today that Shinra's growing presence would be a stabilizing influence in the recently unstable global market."

Rufus Shinra came into view from behind the podium, a large and imposing figure with a neatly trimmed beard and a three thousand gil suit. "Shinra Corp is already in the process of constructing a city outside the division formerly known as EuGen, supplying jobs and affordable living conditions for our growing employee base. Our current goal, in fact our ultimate goal, is to supply affordable energy throughout the world, ending regional conflicts over energy resources. Our first test sites have been a great success. Dr. Hojo, our head of development, assures us that our new extraction units will soon be up and running on all proposed sites. Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to say that stable and affordable energy is very close at hand!"

Cameras flickered.

"Mr. Shinra, how do you respond to allegations that a merger between energy, bionics, and weapons can only increase conflict, and not mitigate it?"

The president smiled. "Ah, an excellent question! But are not weapons, by their very definition, not created to enforce peace and end conflict? Sadly, that has not been their use in recent years. What the world needs is a centralized and stable power both financially and physically stable enough to enforce public well-being. My friends, our mistrust of military and industry is understandable, given our history. But there are improvements ahead, I promise you, and Shinra will be at the helm of such progress!"

More camera flashes.

"Notice how he said _enforce_, not enable," said Irvine. "This guy's sure got a lot of confidence in the general public."

"Honestly, after all the crap we've been through, you think most people can be trusted to think for themselves?" replied Zell.

"So what, that means the rest of us have to have bureaucracy shoved down our throats 'cause the majority's a bunch a' morons?" Irvine frowned at the television

"Says the man that watches _As Garden Turns_." Zell shrugged. "Centralized and stable power…in other words, the exact opposite of Garden. Xu's gonna **love** this." Mused Zell.

"Are you kidding? Xu's probably already got one hand wrist deep into that guy's honey pot," Selphie remarked as walked into the room, zipping her vest. "Are we ready to go?"

"Ready," replied the other two, hefting themselves off of the couch and trailing after her.

The TV continued to drone on to no one, the light flickering off the walls.

"In other news, a sect officials are calling EVE due to their somewhat utopian propaganda gathered outside Shinra today to protest the merger, citing Shinra's questionable environmental record and recent findings regarding tectonic activity linked to Shinra's excavation sites, according to the D.S. Research Center, as reasons for sanctions…."

….

….

…

"_The human body is a delicate battery. The cells floodgates open and close using specific charge, maintaining a tenuous balance. Mag energy, or Mako energy, does not/cannot have a significant charge- SeeDs routinely draw and carry raw Mako, and according to Crescent, et al's report, 'metabolical functions were not significantly affected in testing'(65). What is an energy then, that lacks the ability to affect electrostatic charge but has the capacity to poison living cells?"_

Quistis set down her pen, then looked at the three cages in front of her. Each contained a different rat, bearing a different name: Ethos, Pathos, and Logos (her attempt at scientific levity.) Each cage sported stickers that labeled their diet and handling instructions.

Ethos- Exposure A(-blood exposure) .001 M drip Esuna daily, 5oz food mix.

Pathos-Exposure B (-no blood explosure) .001M drip Esuna daily, 5oz food mix.

Logos-Control- 5oz food mix.

The rats were friendly enough- she handled them daily and they were receptive to treats- particularly Moomba Scout cookies (and especially Thustruvian Trefoils). As she worked in the lab, she would often carry one or two rats on her shoulder, where they sat happily and nibbled their treats, often winding their tails around her throat for balance. This tended to creep out most of the other staff, but Quistis knew the creatures were sterile and they were nothing compared to the creatures she had fought during her travels. She actually found them rather cute.

The rats were all sisters from the same litter, and during initial genetic screenings, showed no abnormalities. The rats were part of a project on mag-poisoning, specifically the stresses and anomalies in the brain that resulted. She'd gotten funding from the Garden Council; a small, laughable stipend that was just enough for three rats, three cages, and a barrage of old medical equipment. Still, it was better than nothing, and it provided a diversion from picking brains all day.

That was, literally, her other occupation in the lab, when she wasn't attending to sutures, binding limbs, or applying compresses. Despite the fact that they _were_ surrounded by magic, Kadowaki's medical motto was to use it as a last option due to its effects on the body. The spells used in battle were incredibly effective, but greatly affected the body's stress levels and extended normal recovery time. As a result, Quistis, though she was magically sterile, was able to be of great use within the small office. Quistis' job, besides cleaning up junior classmen after their inevitable disasters in the Training Center, was to dissect the brains of cadets who had died from magic-related maladies after the medical examiner had finished with them. Thus far, she had picked through ten. It was a somewhat depressing process, to say the least, and Quistis had begun to worry that spending the day surrounded by canned brains was beginning to take its toll.

She reached in and scooped up Ethos, attaching a tiny heart monitor to her small, furry chest. Used to the routine, it twitched its whiskers, jumping only slightly and squeaking indignantly as she removed a small blood sample. The injustice of the needle stick was soon forgotten, however, as she offered the rat a large frosted cookie- it nibbled happily and she gave it a quick scratch on the head with the pad of her finger before noting the rat's vitals in her notebook. Ethos was special of both her sisters- unlike Pathos, who received a passive injection of the mag-infused solution, and Logos, who as Control received nothing, she had reluctantly injected Ethos with a batch of her own epithelial cells. If indeed there was anything special or saturated about her own cells, the effects should show in the rat's results, providing they took and were not rejected. The injection in the rat's right thigh still sported a small lump, but the rat itself seemed untroubled by it and seemed to experience no effects of rejection (or integration)…not that she expected them to. It was a relatively futile effort, but it gave Quistis something to do while clocking in her rotation hours.

Quistis adjusted her glasses as she flipped through the previous results, noting comparisons. No matter how advanced her research seemed (to her at least) she constantly felt as if she were light years behind Hojo- and she was. Her own experimentation with the rats was a secret experiment of sorts- the 'public' reason for the rats' presence in Kadowaki's lab was to test memory effects regarding brain exposure to a weak mag-current. Thus far, each rat seemed to run the maze in comparable time, although Ethos was the smartest of all her sisters and usually finished a few seconds ahead. The private research was much the same as Hojo's- to find the reason she lived at unprecedented mag concentrations…to find the 'ghost in the machine'. She harbored no real hopes of a significant discovery.

Quistis liked her job. Kadowaki was pleasant to work with- she made sure that Quistis completed each benchmark for her training, and allowed her complete freedom within the lab. A naturally bright person, Quistis was completing each benchmark in record time, and her main roadblock to achieving her PhD was now her lack of clinical field time. Memorization was relatively easy for Quistis- she had breezed through anatomy and physiology with little problems. In another two years, she would be ready to take her medical certification exam, and to tag an M.D. after her name.

Quistis often found herself wistfully remembering her own early experiences within the lab- the cuts, bruises and burns that she'd nursed as a junior classmen, the white sterile walls and the bright pain of the needle sticks. She could also remember more recent memories- sitting in Kadowaki's make-shift for hours as a bag of donated blood seeped into her arm, another tube siphoning out the poisoning of her own blood. Even after two years, she found herself flexing her wrist, curling her fingers as she walked. It was an old habit, one that she'd used to ease the ache of walking around junctioned, the stress of the magic in her veins. It was strange, but she still felt that pressure, that ghost sensation that caused her limbs to ache from time to time.

Back in the present, she tucked a strand of hair behind her head, and sighed. In a few more days, she would have to attend another blood-letting session as a guest of Hojo's laboratory- the knowledge sat in her like a stone. It had been three months so far, and each visit had been more abrasive than the last. Only nine months to go, she thought, and she would be done with the business forever.

Quistis set her clipboard on her desk and put Ethos back into her cage, closing and latching the top. She dropped a cookie into Pathos and Logos' cages as well. Logos nibbled her cookie happily, but Pathos continued to sleep, unprovoked by the treat.

*

…

…

…

The Quad was practically deserted- it was early afternoon and classes were still in session. Zell was passed out on a bench with a SeeD manual over his head, snoring softly. Irvine was slowly dissecting one of the cafeteria sandwiches spread out on his lap, picking off the somewhat wilted lettuce with distaste. Selphie was scribbling something onto a pad of paper, tucking a lock of her lengthening brunette hair behind her ear. The brunette looked older without her characteristic hair flips, but her eyes were still as full of mischief as they had been two years ago.

"Sorry I'm late. The tests ran a little longer than expected." she said, settling next to Zell on the bench. Her friend started, pulling the SeeD manual off of his face and breaking into a wide grin. "Hey, Quisty!" he exclaimed, patting her in what he must have thought was a friendly matter. As it was, her friend's strength nearly knocked her off the bench. Zell sat back and handed her a bag lunch.

"Thanks, Zell," she said, opening the bag to reveal an apple, a wrapped cookie, and a tuna fish sandwich. "How's Ceres doing?"

"Fine," replied Zell. "I hear she's fine."

Quistis frowned. "You hear..."

"Yeah," said Zell, running a hand through his hair. "We broke up about a month ago. It was just real hard, with her in Esthar working for the Tri-Garden alliance most of the time. We're still good friends, an' all. It was a mutual thing, for now, at least."

Quistis laid a hand on her friend's solid shoulder. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Zell. I really liked Ceres."

"Yeah, me too," replied her friend. "Thanks Quistis."

Quistis was still frowning. Zell had broken up with his girlfriend a month ago, and she'd only found out now? When was the last time they had all gotten together?

Selphie set down her notepad, her smile deliberately bright. "Great news, Quisty! Next month when you go to Hojo's lab, I'm going with you! Xu wants the Draw Points evaluated, and some samples taken. It'll be a field trip! We can take a detour in Esthar, go shopping-"

"It will be nice to have someone else along," agreed Quistis, pulling out her lunch, trying to focus on the positive of Selphie's presence that would be offset by having to fly with her. At least she'd have someone to share the hotel room with.

"What's Hojo like, anyway? I read 'n article the other day, talkin' about how smart the guy is, about his new technology with the materia stuff-" began Irvine.

"The man is an insult to mad scientists everywhere," replied Quistis.

"That bad, huh?" Irvine lifted an eyebrow.

"No people skills at all….in fact, I doubt he thinks of other people as human, so much as specimens-"

"No love lost there, huh?" asked Zell. "Poor Quisty….well, the contract can't last forever, huh?"

"As long as Hojo's interested, and as long as the contracts hold, it can." said Quistis grimly, her last visit to EuGen still sitting heavily in her mind.

"What'd you think of the merger then?" asked Selphie, wiping a smear of egg salad from her cheek and jogging Quistis out of her unpleasant flashback. Whenever she thought of Hojo, it seemed to make her sick. She tried to avoid thinking about it whenever possible- the contract was a necessary evil as Xu had not been able to grandfather clause the site use and seemed unlikely to do so in the near future. As such, Quistis could easily see the contract being extended, and having to endure the hell that was Hojo for even longer.

Quistis frowned. "Merger?"

"You must not've seen the news."

"No. I've been in the lab all morning, and the beach house doesn't have cable."

"Well, you remember Shinra, right?"

Quistis nodded. "That's the weapons company that took over BioTech and Ammucorp after they went under, right?"

"You mean after we shoved them off the deep end at the last Garden Council hearing, yeah." Said Zell. "That's the one. Anyway, they just acquired EuGen, and a couple other industrial corporations and a law firm or two. So, it ain't EuGen anymore, it's _Shinra's_ new 'science division'."

"So that's what Hojo meant," mused Quistis. "He was talking about a new investor, the first time I visited…"

"Mark my words," said Zell around a mouthful of sandwich. "Finwa's gonn bf twoble."

Having become accustomed to Zell doing much of his talking with food in his mouth, everyone understood him and continued the conversation without pause.

Selphie waved him off. "You know Xu. She's probably already got something invested in the company already."

"Dunno," said Irvine, tipping his hat up to look at the afternoon sky. "Shinra didn't seem especially Garden-friendly in his news press today, talkin' about a 'stable military alternative'…"

"Shinra's going to have enough to worry about with EVE breathing down their backs around every turn. I think it's going to be awhile before they can dominate the military market." Said Selphie, taking a bite of her apple.

"-and put us outta jobs," finished Zell grimly.

"Wouldn't be the worst thing, would it?" muttered Irvine, who suddenly found himself the recipient of three dirty looks. "Aw, come on, like you've never thought a' what you'd do if Garden wasn't around. Yeah, traveling all over the world and kicking ass is fun an' all, but it's not like you can do it forever. Soldier's got a short half-life. Not like I'm gonna be 80, picking people offa rooftops wearin' bifocals." He popped the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, sucking a smattering of tuna fish off his thumb. "Well? Haven't y'all ever thought about what you'd be doing if it weren't for Garden?"

Zell, having finished his lunch, balled his cellophane wrapper and tossed it into a nearby waste receptacle. "That's easy. I'd start my own martial arts studio. Teach little kids self-defense n' stuff, have my house above the dojo, that'd totally rock! What about you, Selph?"

"Hmmm…." The pretty brunette tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't really know. Maybe I could be an events coordinator, or something like that. I really like planning things, you know!"

"We know," replied her friends in unison, rolling their eyes.

"What about you, Quisty?" asked Zell. "What would you do?"

Quistis gave a little shrug, twisting the stem on her apple. "I'm not sure, honestly. I'd like to teach, maybe younger children….maybe I'd start my own medical practice. I dreamed of those things when I was younger, but to be honest, after my SeeD training…all those things began to seem very far from what I was capable of. I hadn't given it much thought, until I went on inactive status."

It was Zell's turn to pat her shoulder. "Irvine? Fair's fair. Answer your own question."

Irvine stretched, folding his lanky arms behind his head. "Well, as a kid I always dreamed about owning my own Chocobo ranch…y'know, bein' a real cowboy, bein' outdoors, wranglin' shit, that kinda thing. That's what I wanted to do as a kid, anyway. Y'know, when we were growin' up at Matron's, not once did I ever think, 'hey, think I'd like to grow up an' kill people someday for a living. See the world, y'know. Pick people off when they aren't lookin'."

Of all of them, Irvine had always been the most reluctant to become a soldier. Selphie had gone to Garden out of uncertainty as to what the rest of the world held for her, Quistis had gone to escape her home life, and Zell, well, none of them could quite figure out how Zell would up at Garden's doors. For Squall and Seifer, it had been the next logical step. In truth, they had all felt a certain pull there, whether it was Matron's influence or simply Fate, none were sure. Once within the doors, however, they had done what they came to do- they learned to defend, protect, and serve- they learned to kill or be killed and eventually reformed the old bonds they'd had as children. It seemed that their fate was two part, in this way: they were born to fight, and they were born to fight together.

It was Selphie who broke the silence. "You know, Irvy, I really can't imagine you wrangling up Chocobo's…"

Quistis laughed. "If other Chocobos are anything like Glyph, you'd have your work cut out for you."

"Pffft. If scar-head can handle 'em, I can handle 'em." Scar-head had become Irvine's somewhat 'affectionate' nickname for Seifer, which paled in comparison to the things that Zell and Seifer still called one another.

"Uh huh," replied Zell, smirking. "Like that time we were paintin' the boat shed, and Glyph was chasin' after that red bandanna in your pocket? I thought you were gonna pee your pants."

"Hyne-damned bird's crazy, just like its master. How is old scar-head, anyway? Haven't seen much of him around Garden lately."

"Well, seeing as he's supposed to be dead," replied Quistis, "I'll take that as a good thing. He's the same, as always. Why don't you all come by the Saturday after next? We'll cook out."

"Will…someone besides you be grilling this time?" asked Zell tentatively.

Quistis threw him a poisoned look. "There should be a measuring cup for the amount of lighter fluid to pour. That fire was not my fault."

"Scar-face gonna to be there, too?" asked Irvine, in an attempt to save Zell from certain death.

Quistis shrugged. "With his schedule, I wouldn't count him in. But you can always become better acquainted with Glyph, Irvine. You could practice your wrangling."

"Har har," replied the cowboy. "Sounds good, though. I could use a break."

"Me too," replied Selphie, "Count me in."

"Me too," replied Zell. "I almost forgot what it's like to be on vacation."

A comfortable silence settled on the group, the kind born of shared childhoods and shared battles where the down-time had often exceeded the action. The group took a moment to imagine their futures, had the world spun differently- Irvine, wrangling birds, Zell, teaching children to defend themselves on highly polished wooden floors, Selphie, planning out other people's lives, and Quistis, tending to children in a small clinic by the sea….trained killers borrowing other people's normal lives to slip into, playing dress up in the now bloody attics of their brains.

….

…

…

*

Another late night at the office, and Xu was desperately trying to finish up the last of the day's paperwork so that she could make some pretense of sleep. She was beginning to feel like the undead.

"Headmistress?" Xu's phone blinked to life. "A phone call for you." The young woman quirked an eyebrow. It was well after 10pm- business calls did not come in that late.

Save for certain 'business' calls.

"I have it, Sanora." She said, picking up the phone and hitting the blinking line.

"Good evening, Headmistress." A deep, booming voice drawled over the line, one she recognized immediately. "I must thank you. I'm told that the samples extracted from SeeD Trepe have been instrumental in the design of our new extraction units.

Xu remembered Seifer's silhouette in her doorway, his eyes dark with warning.

_You sell another piece of her…._

"Happy to be of help," she replied. "I trust you received my communication that a SeeD of mine will be out to inspect the Draw points next month, as per our agreement?"

"Yes, and of course, you are always welcome." Replied the President.

The formalities exhausted, the Headmaster and the President of Shinra Corp reverted to their natural roles- two dogs circling a gut pile. Xu preferred this method of communication to the sterilized simpering that precluded it.

Xu leaned back, putting her feet up on the desk. "I had the pleasure of watching your news conference today, Shinra. 'A centralized and stable power both financially and physically stable enough to enforce public well-being.' A bit idealistic, don't you think?"

Laughter. "Not at all! I think that perhaps the public is ready for an alternative to flying factions, don't you?"

Xu's hand curled around a bronze apple paperweight. "I must say, I really enjoyed your little press conference today. And an antidote to flying factions...really, Shinra, you must thank your publicist."

Shinra's deep chuckle reverberated in her ear. "Actually, that was one of my own. I'm so pleased you enjoyed it."

"Mmmm...your own skills in PR are to be commended, then." Xu twirled her pen between her fingers. "Still, I highly doubt that you'll retain your initial popularity, when the correlation between your drilling sites and localized earthquakes leaks to the press."

"Are you putting stock in the ramblings of a terrorist organization, Miss Chang? I was under the impression that Garden's intelligence was a _little_ more developed than that."

"I'd say our intelligence is doing fine, Shinra," she replied, "In fact, I recently read that the DS Research Center issued a full report relating the tectonic disturbances to the recent activation of several underground locations, which happen to coincide nicely with your own excavation site locations."

"You also know, then, that the DS Research Center issued a full report relating the tectonic disturbances to the recent activation of several underground locations, and only last week, issued a full retraction of their initial findings."

"The DS research center has had some _persuasion_ to that effect, hasn't it? To the tune of what, 10 million gil?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." Rufus' tone was more amused than afraid. "However did you come by this information, Miss Chang?"

"Let's just say I've taken a particular interest in your company."

_Let's also say that I've got a team of hackers monitoring the comings and goings of your bank accounts, particularly your less public ones._

"How flattering for us," replied Shinra.

Xu's mouth was beginning to hurt from the severity of her smile. "Now, as much as I'd like to believe that this is a pleasure call, Shinra, we're both creatures of business. What can I do for you?"

"Eve is becoming a problem. I want them taken care of…permanently."

Xu drummed the fingers of your other hand against the silver slope of one of her paperweights, an amused smile on her face. "What would you have me do? SeeD cannot be contracted for assassinations-"

"Not your public sect, anyway. But as I understand it, there is another group for hire on Garden's roster, isn't there?"

Xu paled at the other end of the line. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do. You see, I have people, too, Miss Chang, that are paid to take an interest in **your** business."

"The White SeeD, if I'm not mistaken, have been resurrected, and are being used to contract at the private level."

On the other end of the line, Xu's fingers had tightened on her paperweight.

"Currently, and correct me if I'm mistaken, they are being led by one Dirk Strife...am I correct? And, judging by this man's social security number, he would be, what, fifty seven by now? That is, if he weren't already dead."

"You have a very interesting theory as well." Xu grit her teeth.

_Motherfucker's smarter than I thought. Well, he obviously didn't crawl to the top of the corporate gutpile by playing nice…you should've expected this, Chang. _

The President chuckled. "As do you." A pause. "Miss Chang, I believe we have each other, what is the common phrase? By the balls?"

Xu's eyes narrowed, her interest sharpening at the mention of opportunity. "I'm listening."

"I'm a reasonable man . As such, I'll propose a compromise. I'd like to contract your SeeD to inspect all of our excavation sites, and exterminate any vermin that would prohibit our scientists from doing their jobs. Should any…problems arrive with EVE, then any action would be retaliation and as such, would be…acceptable in the eyes of the administration, would it not?"

"_Theoretically_, yes."

"In return for these services, both for your contract and for my anticipated generosity in compensating your institution for said contract, I believe that we can forget about any harmful knowledge one may possess against the other?"

"Again, theoretically, yes. But I would not send a covert ops team to take care of a mid-level terrorist group. My regular SeeDs should suffice. I would recommend a team of 5, with a licensed medic."

Shinra's voice had reached a calm, condescending timbre, a contented purr of his naturally deep tone. "Excellent. Then I shall have the contracts drawn up tomorrow, and sent for your approval. Should this go well, I have another proposal in the making. It has been a pleasure talking with you, Miss Chang. I look forward to many such discussions in the future."

"As do I, Shinra." Xu calmly replaced the receiver, then immediately hurled the paperweight across the room. It buried itself deep into the plaster, sending a cloud of dust flying.

"Son of a _bitch_," she hissed.

_How in the fuck had Shinra known about the White SeeD?_

Xu buried her face in her hands, rubbing at her temples. Things really needed to be looking up soon. As it was, she was slowly destroying her office.


	10. Letter 4

_Dear Quistis,_

_Thank you for your package! When I opened our weekly mail parcel (it's more of a huge box, actually), it was a grey and rainy day, and I was feeling a little down in the dumps- but when I spotted your neat penmanship on the box among the bills, I smiled so big it was like the sun came out!_

_We all enjoyed the chocolates, especially Zack. We all sat around the kitchen table and worked our way through the whole box, trying to guess what was in each one. Zak loves the stuffed Ifrit, by the way- he carries it everywhere. Wherever did you get it?_

_Squall is home for the week, so he and Zack have been stuck together like superglue. I think they're outside trying to build a kite right now, taking advantage of the nice breezes we've been getting along the shoreline. If its anything like the last lopsided kite they made, they're going to need helmets to prevent someone from losing an eye. Oh well. Zack doesn't care if it flies, anyway, he just likes spending time with his father. Squall is home when he can be, and we just take him when we can get him! Squall says in the years ahead he wants to move onto more consult work, just as soon as he can find a suitable replacement. I said, Who could ever replace you, silly? Things have shifted in him since Zack was born, I think. Then again, we're all a little different now, aren't we?_

_How is the weather in Balamb? Spring has definitely arrived here at the cottage- the salt air has lost its bite and my flowers are finally beginning to sprout. I told you that Edea gave me free range of the gardens when Squall and I moved here, didn't I? Well, she did, and sometimes I wonder if she isn't beginning to regret her decision!_

_I planted tulips along the stone cobble way last week, and added some sprays of wildflowers to the front porch that I transplanted from the flower field. There's also the rose bushes I put up along the sides: white roses should be budding soon, which will look lovely with the sprays of lilacs I'm expecting along the corner rows. I even ordered some seeds and dug a little garden plot next to the house: pumpkins, green beans, wild onions, and some tomato plants. (Of course, I don't actually know how to -**cook**__- any of these things, but they always look so nice in bowls in magazines.) Maybe I'll learn! I don't expect the pumpkins to grow any larger than my fist this first year, but its a start! I can't wait for you to see it!_

_The garden was a wonderful idea. At first, I was going stir crazy here, (as I'm sure you noticed by my letters), but I'm slowly thinking of different things to do. Its settling here, in a way that Timber and Balamb never were, and in the way that my fathers old house could never be after my mom died. Right now I'm sitting at the new scroll top desk by the front window, writing to you and enjoying the sunlight. I could have called you, I suppose, but there's something about writing a letter, isn't there? Something secret and personal that appeals to me, and besides, isn't it always wonderful to get a letter in the mail? To know someone's thinking of you, and wishing you well?_

_How is your medical license coming? Selphie and Squall say you have been putting a lot of hours in at the clinic, as well as in Kadowaki's lab. Squall said that your paper on "Draw Point vs. Mag-saline Solution Acquisition-Differentiation in [Acytlcholine]" was really interesting- I didn't even understand the title, but I'm sure that it was! Pretty soon we'll all be calling you Dr. Quisty! I hope you're also taking some time out for fun, too- you really do work too hard, you know. As your friend, I prescribe a bottle of wine and a nice, relaxing evening with a certain meanie. Or better yet, make him take you out!_

_Zack has been asking about you lately, in as much as an almost-two-year-old can inquire about anyone. He keeps saying, Aunty Kisty come now? I tell him soon, and hope that it will be true. We've been so spoiled lately, with you and Selphie using the Ragnarok to come and see us! Maybe we'll have to come and see you soon, too! Although, I'm pretty sure its not cost-effective to use a giant airship for a day-visit. Somewhere, Xu is hunched over a counting machine, grinding her teeth, haha._

_I'm sending you along a picture Zack drew for you and Seifer- it kind of looks like the ocean but I can't say as I remember the ocean having red trees in it. I like to say that hes creative- Squall says that's just something parents say about their kids even when they scribble on the walls. (This from a guy who has about 127 pictures of 'scribbles' in his office!) At any rate, enjoy your scribble. You never know, it could be worth something someday! It's autographed by the artist himself, after all!_

_I miss all of you- I hope we can see each other really soon!_

_With love,_

_Rinoa_

_p.s. Tell the meanie we all say hello!_


	11. Cycles and Starlight

Authors notes: Number one, a TON of the chat sequence you are about to read below was inspired by Sarinia Trepe's fic FF8 DGO, especially Zell's screenname, which I shamelessly stole. I couldn't resist with the screenname (it was just so fitting!) and I hope shell forgive me. If you haven't read her fic, do! Its a favorite of mine and it always makes me laugh. Second, to those of you who are still reading this- thanks! RL does take its toll, although the novel I'm working on is actually progressing-sort of. I haven't thrown it in the wood chipper yet, anyway. You'll have to forgive the typos- I've got no beta currently and my own beta-ing , to say the least, is crummy. I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but it's necessary. Next chapter is almost all written- it should be out sooner than later! Oh! And the Hynekan beer reference is NOT mine. It belongs to the very talented authors seventhe and enkida, whose story, "How Not to Date Blondes", I'm a big fan of. Hope they don't mind!

Also, you'll notice the addition of Rinoa's letters. Trust me, they do have a purpose. (See Author's notes in Chapter 1)

**Disclaimer: Borrowed stuff. Played with it. Tried to shape it into something resembling a story. Ongoing process.**

...

..

.

The little shack was not well-lit. Shadows crept along the dusty floorboards, fluttering with the motions of shadows within.

The place was also not well-ventilated. Sweat and sawdust and the suffocating damp molds recycled themselves with each breath and each small breeze that found its way underneath the crack in the rotting door.

The location was in no way beautiful or spacious, but it was a secret place for secret things, fitting in its shadow and its silence. And so, there, in the void of light and air, they spun their webs, they made their plans, and they told their stories.

The place was very like a tomb, and it seemed fitting they should be in it- they were, after all, the last dying embers of a dying race.

"We will attack on the sixth day at the location we discussed," spoke one of the figures. "They will be busy with their little plans- they will not be expecting it."

"We've chosen a time and a location that should minimize casualties," spoke another shadow. "Those who die will most likely be surveillance or military."

"A necessary sacrifice," said another shadow, and there was a murmur of agreement.

"...and when will we address the calamity?" This voice came from the back, a murmur thick as a creeping shadow.

An uncomfortable quiet descended among the small group. The tension seemed to become part of the air, thickening it, until it became almost stifling.

A large figure shifted in the shadows, and all eyes were instantly upon him. "She will come to us, in time. And when she does..."

"We will end her."

..

.

**BalambGchat41807 has been created by AdminBot04.**

**Big_Gunz has joined the chat.**

**Blue14 has joined the chat.**

**Hawt_Dawg has joined the chat. **

Blue14: Nice screen name, Big_Gunz.

Big_Gunz: Did you want a ticket to the gun show, hotstuff? I'm practically giving them away.

Blue14: Mmmm..I'll pass.

Hawt_Dawg: ME TOO. I'M NOT GOING TO FALL FOR THAT TWICE. THERE WAS NO GUN SHOW IN THE QUAD, YOU ASSHOLE.

Hawt_Dawg: BTW YOUR NAME SUCKS MAN

Big_Gunz: Are you actually making fun of MY name, you wet moomba? Anyone with a 3rd grade education could figure out who YOU are in about five seconds.

Hawt_Dawg: YEAH CUZ YOUR HANDLE IS ONE BIG MYSTERY MAN

**Leon01 has joined the chat.**

Leon01: Hawt_Dawg, aren't you supposed to be finishing up that mission report?

Hawt_Dawg: I'M MULTITASKING

Big_Gunz: like hell you are. wasn't that you in the quad like five minutes ago, getting your ass handed to you by one of the hall monitors for trying to t-board on the railing?

Hawt_Dawg: DUDE SHUT UP

Leon01: Was meeting on here absolutely necessary, do you think?

Blue14: If you've got a better method for simultaneous communication, I'm all for it. This is the only way I can get all of us together for any length of time.

Hawt_Dawg: EMBRACE THE TECHNOLOGY, COMMANDER

Leon01: I swear to Hyne, if you don't take that thing off capslock....

Big_Gunz: Anyway, as I was saying, MY chat handle operates on two fronts- I happen to operate big guns, and I also sustain an ongoing appreciation for particularly well-endowed women.

Blue14: Yes. We know.

Big_Gunz: The name combines a sense of irony and humor that I find to be tasteful and appropriate.

Blue14: ......

Hawt_Dawg: .....

Leon01: ......

Big_Gunz: You should have seen the pair on that new girl in the library the other day. I'll put in a good word with her for you, Z. What the heck was her name, again...?

**MessengerGurl has joined the chat.**

Hawt_Dawg: hey Selphie! guess what Irvine was just talking about?

MessengerGurl: You knobhead! You know the first rule of these chatrooms is that we don't use our actual names!

Hawt_Dawg: oh, shit

Hawt_Dawg: I mean....hey....Sarah.

MessengerGurl: Oh whatever, anyway, what WAS Big_Gunz talking about? What'd I miss?

Hawt_Dawg: well.

Blue14: We were just discussing the ongoing evolution of the Estharian political environment to accommodate international trade.

Messengergurl: huh?  
**  
Angel_wings has joined the chat.**

Angel_wings: Hey everyone!!! :-)

Leon01: angel, did you get my message about Friday?

Angel_wings: Yep! Roger roger! I'll talk to you on the phone tonight! :-)

Hawt_Dawg: Hey Rin!

Messengergurl: WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU

Hawt_Dawg: aw shit

Blue14: ANYway, before we ALL compromise the sanctity of the garden database....

Hawt_Dawg: Oh, come on, it's just chatroom41807. Who the hell's going to randomly decide to hack chatroom41807?

Big_Gunz: Oh, I dunno, idiot, the same random hacker bots that've picked at our servers for years?

Blue14: As I was saying, are we all on for this weekend? I want to know how much food to get.

Big_Gunz: seeing as Zell's coming....you may want to buy a few semi's worth....

Hawt_Dawg: hey fuck you Irvine

Messengergurl: YOU GUYS! YOU DID IT AGAIN!

Big_Gunz: Oh shit, haha

Hawt_Dawg: damnit, this is hard

Leon01: it's a good thing that they just jumped the chat function onto a private server two weeks ago, because you all are idiots.

Angel_wings: Squall, don't be such a meanie!

Blue14: lol

Angel_wings: Oh no! Now I- did it! Whoopsie! lol

Leon01: .........

MessengerGurl: omg you guys, knock it off!

Blue14: I'll just assume you all are coming. Whatever you don't eat, the dogs will.

Hawt_Dawg: and by dogs, you mean.....

MessengerGurl: Hey Angel, are you and Leon coming?

Angel_wings: I'll see what I can do!

Big_Gunz: Aw, we never see you two anymore! Leon, quit hoggin' her for yourself!

Leon01: whatever

Angel_wings: :-( I know. I really miss you guys!

Messengergurl: Hey, is the meanie going to be there? I have a new portable USB drive for him....seeing he fried the other one.

Big_Gunz: He fried it?

Messengergurl: Like, he literally did. He's been a nightmare for tech support. Just ask C. Shes ready to kill him.

Hawt_Dawg: lol, sounds about right...he's a nightmare generally

Blue14: I'm afraid the 'meanie' will be gone. He had a big business meeting.

Big_Gunz: Another one? Geez, that guy works as hard as Xu. Tell him not to worry. If super smooth over there falls through the roof again, we'll take pictures.

Hawt_Dawg: seriously stay right in the library. i'm going to pound ur head into the monitor

MessengerGurl: Hey Rin, did you get that message I sent you about the new Summer Festival Committee?

Hawt_Dawg: OH NO SHE DIDN'T

Messenger_gurl: Oh, crap! See what you made me do?

Big_Gunz: AHAHAHA! GUILTY! GUILTY!

Messengergurl: Seriously, you guys are so immature!

Angel_wings: sorry, I didn't get the message.

Hawt_Dawg: LIAR

Angel_wings: shut up, zell!

Big_Gunz: AND AGAIN! AND AGAIN!

Hawt_Dawg: OH NOES! YOU HAZ ALL BROKEN THE INTERWEBS!

Leon01: _What did I tell you about capslock!!!!!!!!_

MessengerGurl: You two shut up!

Blue14: hyne, you're all nuts

Messenger_gurl: How long's the party going to go till?

Blue14: Hadn't thought of that. Till the food runs out, I suppose. I thought we might have a bonfire on the beach if the weather permits.

Messenger_gurl: Ooooooh! Can we have s'mores?

Blue14: As long as someone else handles Zell's marshmallows this time.

Big_Gunz: Speaking of Zell's marshmallows.....

Hawt_Dawg: i hate u all

Angel_wings: ..I think we can now safely say that everyone in the room has no violated the 'no name' agreement clause for use in chatrooms..

ADMIN04: GUYS, THIS IS SERIOUSLY THE WORST EXAMPLE OF CHATROOM USAGE I'VE EVER SEEN.

Big_Gunz: Ceres?

ADMIN04: YES. (HI EVERYONE!)

Blue14: You got my invitation, right?

ADMIN04: YES. UNFORTUNATELY, I'VE GOT TO DO SOME SYSTEM MODS FOR THE IGCS ON THAT DAY, SO I'M OUT. THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE INVITE, THOUGH!

Angel_wings: Hi Ceres!!

Hawt_Dawg: Hey Cer....so does this mean you've been monitoring this whole conversation?

ADMIN04: UNFORTUNATELY YES, SINCE YOU'RE USING THE SECURE LINE, I'VE HAD THE DUBIOUS PLEASURE OF MONITORING THIS CHAT FOR THE LAST FIVE MINUTES WHILE I WORK ON THE SYSTEM UPGRADES.

Blue14: Wait a second- you mean, ALL secure chat extensions routed through Garden computers require a supervisory tech?

ADMIN04: Yes, why?

Blue14: Oh, no reason.

**Blue14 has left the room.**

MessengerGurl: Wonder what that was all about.

Leon01: I'm out, too. Some of us actually have to work. R, I'll call at the usual time. And Zell, speaking of work, that report better be on my desk by 1700 hours.

**Leon01 has left the room.  
**  
Hawt_Dawg: slavedriver.

Big_Gunz: I'm out too. See y'all Saturday. Hi Ceres! Bye Ceres!

**Big_Gunz has left the room.**

Angel_Wings: Oops, I think I hear someone up from their nap. I'm off, too! Bye everyone! :-)  
**  
Angel_wings has left the room.**

Messenger_gurl: Hey hot dog, you wanna come over later and help me make marshmallow fluff surprise?

Hawt_Dawg: With mango?

Messenger_gurl: Would it be my famous marshmallow fluff surprise WITHOUT mango?

Hawt_Dawg: I'm in!

**Hawt_Dawg has left the room.**  
**Messenger_gurl has left the room.**

ADMIN04: HOLY HYNE.....

ROOM 11467 HAS BEEN DELETED AT 3:54pm.

...........................

...

...

Had he not been on a mission and been in possession of his girlfriend, Seifer was sure he would have enjoyed his time in the emerald city far more than he currently was. Things being what they were, however, he was exhausted from trying to sleep in a lumpy hotel bed, crowded and irritated by the mass of people surrounding him, and just wanted to forget his mission and go home.

Esthar was a bright, gleaming, and pretentious place, buzzing with markets, restaurants, and brimming with theater. Movie posters studded the sidewalks, and vendors of every kind were stalking the streets, advertising their wares with flashy carts and loud voices. The place was fairly stuffed with culture and class, and at night, it lit up like a sapphire skyscraper. It was a beautiful city...if one liked that brand of beauty.

Seifer squinted at the blinding buildings, and yawned. He was tired, sick to death of espionage, and looking forward to sailing back to the beach house to drink cold beer and work on his roof. The constant press and pull of the citys human traffic was irritating him, and the glare from the glass and metal was adding to his already throbbing headache.

One more day left. Seifer took a deep, exasperated breath, and dodged another cluster of pedestrians that werent watching where they were going.

There was little to be gleaned from the scraps of media he had gathered concerning the Eve sect Xu seemed so suddenly interested in. They were a small, close-knit group, and they camouflaged well, because they were often on their own. There were about fifteen of them, give or take, from what he had gathered, but they were never all in the same place at the same time. As far as he could see, they didn't call themselves anything, nor did they seem to be particularly interested in marketing some new social agenda, although their activities were stirring some eco-friendly sympathy in the area.

Eve was a media label, generated because of the group's perceived utopian views of industry and business. The group had never contested the Gardens use of magic- in fact, he had never so much as heard a whisper of them or from them before Hojos lab and the Shinra Electric Company started plunging mako-sucking machines into the soil.

As far as he could tell, the groups aims were specifically to target the new Shinra Corp, and each of the mako extraction sites. Beyond that, he had no idea what the fuck they were up to. If Chang wanted more surveillance run, she could squeeze herself into a closet-sized roach motel and try to pick up sound bites that weren't barking dogs, screaming children, or any of the other noises that came from staying in rooms that had a by-the-hour option.

Who was he kidding? If Chang had another mission, he was going to take it. He needed all the gil he could get at the moment.

He made a note to bring Quistis back here some day soon: the last time she had been here, shed been holed up in a hotel planning for the Garden Council hearing, and she had seen little of the actual city. She'd like Azul's, the 5 star restaurant located on the top of the Aramour Skyscraper. The restaurant was known for its celebrity chef, and for having a moving dining hall that rotated towards the sunset at precisely 7 o' clock. It was a perfect place to celebrate an anniversary, propose, or to blow a month's salary on a single meal. After dinner, Seifer supposed he could grind his teeth through one of the operas or the museums Quistis seemed to like so much, provided she made it worth his while later in one of the Cobalia Hotel suites. Seifer instantly halted that train of thought before it could go any further. These missions were hell on his sex life.

Since Esthar had shut down its shields and joined the global markets two years ago, tourists had flocked to the capitol to see the fabled blue buildings glimmer in the sun, to submerge themselves in the fast-paced shimmer of the markets, and to see what the city had been keeping secret for so long.

While Seifer had enjoyed the sightseeing for the first five minutes, he was quickly becoming irritated with the mission, and was anxious to return back to his sparsely populated beach house and the unique brand of insanity that occurred there due to 6 dysfunctional living things all trying to function within the same place. It was ironic- years ago, this would have been his kind of city. Now, he mused, catching his reflection in one of the shop windows, he was growing wiser, growing weary...and growing old.

Though the little orphanage gang was only approaching their mid-twenties, the fast and brutal pace of their lives had aged them long before their time. Most of them, with the exception of Trepe, who had lived like a monk, and of Squall, who until recent years had led a deliberately indifferent life, had long ago maxed out high octane living that was the side car of being a child mercenary. Most of them had experienced their first drink or their first sexual experience before they hit fifteen- then again, most of them had also committed their first profitable murder before they hit puberty. By the age of 25, most SeeDs had either bottomed out, leveled off, or had gotten killed in the line of duty. It was a mayfly life, and it bore down hard on those that lived it.

At the age of 24, Seifer had more scars, more secrets, and more shadows than most people could hope to amass in a lifetime.

As he walked through the streets, Seifer glanced at the brightly colored campaign posters that dotted every building front and lampost. After this year, Laguna Loire would no longer the President of Esthar, which was just as well in Seifer's opinion. The man was piss-poor with politics, and, though Quistis disagreed with him, a veritable bumbling idiot when it came to most anything else. All in all, Seifer would wager to guess that Kiros had more to do with Laguna's successful presidency than Laguna himself did. Quistis said that there was more to Laguna than met the eye- Seifer couldnt tell if she was being diplomatic or if she actually believed that. It was difficult to separate Quistis' diplomatic lies from her true loyalties at times.

According to Squall, Loire planned to retire to the shore after his term ended, take up a writing job, and spend some quality time with his grandson. Although not exactly attached at the hip, at Rinoa's urging Squall had managed to initiate a civil correspondence with his father, and the two had managed to form some sort of semi-functional relationship. At least, as functional as one could get when their long-lost son had grown up a child mercenary, with attachment issues a mile deep. Following her own advice and perhaps more in the interest of Zak than anything, Rinoa had also patched things up with her father to the point that they could sit down and have a family dinner without anyone throwing anything or storming out.

Seifer was hard pressed to imagine patching things up with his own father, for more reasons than the fact that the man was long dead.

Still, he wondered what his mother would think of him becoming a soldierbecoming one of the now fabled Liberi Fatali.

_The Liberi Fatali...._

Once, Seifer had embraced that label, the idea that the seven of them were destined for greatness because it aligned perfectly with his own grandiose theories about himself. Ellone was innately special, certainly, due to that giant psychic magnet or whatever it was that made her brain tick the way it did. The 'big sis' was now living in Esthar, and still in close contact with Laguna. He knew that Quistis also wrote to her as well, although what the two women had to talk about was beyond him. Seeing as the last time hed seen Ellone was at Squall and Rinoas wedding, and that the time before that had been when hed taken her hostage, hed decided not to look her up while he was in the city.

She had been friendly enough at the wedding, asking him about the beach house and his part in the third sorceress war. When Quistis had asked about what Ellone had been up to, shed laughed and said that her part in the world these days seemed to be purely ornamental. Laguna kept a close eye on her, shed said, and never let her go far. However, she didn't seem too upset about it. Seifer would wager to guess she now had a full guard after Hojo had expressed a professional interest in her. Then again, Hojo had expressed a professional interest in all of the Heroes, all of whom (with the exception of Quistis, who had little choice), had pretty much told him to fuck off. Seifer, being legally dead, was blissfully exempt from Hojos pursuit, but he wouldnt put grave digging past the sick fucker.

Then again, if Hojo actually took the time to go grave robbing, he was dumber than Seifer thought. They hadnt found anything bigger than a toilet seat at the Galbadia Garden crash site in Galbadia, and they sure as hell hadnt found any useable body parts, save for one of Adels arms and half of her face, both of which could be found in the Heroes' Memorial.

It was nearly three and a half years past the actual Third Sorceress War, but that didnt stop the media from seizing what scraps they could find on the Liberi Fatali and gleaning every rotten piece of meat from the gossip carcass that they could. Years ago, he was hard pressed to pass a newspaper stand without the words SORCERESS RINOA HEARTILLY TO VISIT ESTHAR or QUISTIS TREPE TO RETIRE FROM ACTIVE DUTY or, his personal favorite CID KRAMER NOT DEAD: ZOMBIE MAINTAINS CONTROLLING INTEREST IN BALAMB GARDEN STOCK. Then again, Rinoa hadn't exactly fought her fame. Between the plays she'd starred in, and the movie deals she'd pursued, she seemed to bask in the limelight. Rinoa's attempt at positive press was as much a strategy as it was a career- she'd seemed equally happy to set down her acting career and take up the role of mother.

Though Ellone seemed to be destined for greatness, (or at least constant manipulation), the rest of them...well, it wasn't exactly an accident that they'd grown up to be killers. He knew for a fact that aside from him and Squall, who arrived at orphanage naturally pissed off at life, that the other children weren't exactly default mercenary material. As a child, Zell was as harmless as he was dumb, and the rest of them, well...

At his most basic level, Irvine was more of a live-and-let-live kind of person. He could kill a person, sure, but he would have been equally happy running a damned chicken farm. Selphie, though he had to admit that the girl had a definite lust for blowing shit up, was not exactly public enemy number one. Quistis had been an excellent mercenary simply because Quistis was a perfectionist in every aspect of her life by nature. She was the best because she _had_ to be the best. Shed once been able to boast the status of a Blue Mage, one out of only four between the three Gardens, although her abilities had been inactive for years due to a serious case of mag-poisoning which had very nearly cost her her life.

Though he knew that he would always carry some (perhaps misplaced) loyalty for Cid and Edea, it never stopped him from wondering what the fuck it was they thought they were doing when they built a killing school for abandoned kids in the hopes that one day, they'd be able to gear up and kill their mother. It was a pretty sick and twisted fairy tale if you sat down and thought about it, really.

He knew that Quistis herself maintained mixed feelings for both Cid and Edea, but any bitter thoughts any of them may have had were subdued by the fierce fidelity that came naturally to orphans: Cid and Edea, however flawed, however distant, had taken them in, and to that end they held a certain measure of infallibility and a debt of if that loyalty turned out to be the price of their own blood. They had held to Cid, and to Edea, not because they were model parents or even model people, but because it was all they had.

Seifer adjusted his jacket around his neck as he walked, keeping an eye out for any of the people that matched the pictures in his manila folder back at the hotel. As a person that had once taken pleasure in every flashy and glimmering thing that the world had to offer, Seifer now found himself more partial to Balamb's sunsets and an afternoon drinking beer with Rajin on the back porch than he did a busy and bustling city. Years ago, a city like Esthar would have been his home. Now, it was simply another bright and empty shell of a collection of bright and empty shells that had long ago ceased to glimmer for him.

Maybe he only wanted to bring Quistis here for the singular pleasure of replacing the memory of Serabin's arm around her in the picture, the bright lights of Esthar behind them lit up as brightly as her eyes.

_"It is still Trepe, isn't it?"  
_  
Glyphias.

_Not for long, it fucking isn't._

Having performed his initial mission objectives, Seifer had nothing else to do but to wait for night to fall. At ten o' clock, he would be meeting his contact at the rendezvous point deep in the industrial district, after which time he was free to leave the city and had every intention of doing so. The man was a weapons trader that claimed to have "Eve" for a client, but Seifer thought it was probably just another trail of bullshit that led nowhere. Eve seemed to depend on no one beyond their close-knit little sect, and their means of destruction had always been magical in nature. Still, it was worth checking out, as long as he was in town. Seifer once again thanked whatever gods were still listening to him that his job did not require paperwork of any kind.

Seifer didn't really understand the new Shinra Corp's desire to sniff out the faction. After all, aside from the very public and very annoying protests, there was little the faction could actually do to the company. The fact that Shinra had tried to hire the White SeeD didn't seem to bode well for the faction, though. It showed that, for one thing, Shinra didn't want to deal with the sect on its own. The group was highly publicized, and any retaliation on Shinra's part would be bad for publicity and for business. The fact that Xu was using him to run surveillance did not bode well for the group, either. How Shinra had found out about the White SeeD, he could only guess, but Xu had been sending him on a lot of lone missions lately, and had told him that the new policy concerning his sect was strictly CYA: Cover Your , in Seifers case, Your Ass Or Get Killed Quietly So Theres No Paperwork.

Back in the hotel and checked in under a fake name, Seifer had already unpacked his equipment and made sure that the bug he'd be clipping to his shirt tonight was active. There was nothing else to do but wait, and Seifer hated waiting. He had never been a patient person in any area of his life, and thought he was probably unlikely to gain any...ever. Holding up the address of the warehouse, he committed it to memory and, flexing his fingers, called up a weak fire spell. The piece of paper fluttered and blackened above his hand, floating to the carpet in a cluster of black ash. Such was any and all paperwork in the White SeeD sect, whose sole function, aside from its normal objectives, was to leave no trace of its existence, anywhere. He was a ghost doing a ghost job, leaving whispers in his wake.

He had initially tried to pass the afternoon in the hotel room catching up on sleep, but it was a lost cause. Though he was loathe to admit it, he had grown used to the sound to the ocean and a warm body against his, and was finding it difficult to sleep without both. He had thought about calling Quistis, but she had been putting hours in at Balamb General the night before, and was probably sleeping.

Resigning himself to yet another day without sleep, he had donned a non-descript civilian outfit and his holo-chip, and hit the streets to take care of another important piece of business. He constantly had to resist the urge to run his fingers through his hair, as the holo-chip didnt respond to external stimulus. Running his hand though his hair and not having it move in the slightest might not catch any attention, but he couldnt run the risk. Hed let his hair grow out a little recently, owing to laziness, and it now curled a little at his neck and hung in his eyes underneath his hat. Hed have Quistis cut it when he got back, if he remembered. In the meantime, he'd jammed a black wool knit cap on his head and called it a hairstyle.

If one were inclined to spend the day in the city without spending a gil, there was no shortage to the visual feast that could be had for free. Movie stars stalked the shops, and there were plenty of carts set along the cobalt streets, selling everything from spiced nuts to shoe shines. Walking along the sidewalks, he eventually stopped by a burly vendor who looked more likely to sell ratsicles than anything approved by the Food and and Drug Administration. The smells coming from his cart were the most appealing, however, so Seifer took his chances and bought two orders of chili cheese fries, eating his lunch out of a cone of wax paper as he walked.

Lapiz Comemoria was Esthar's finest jewelry store, tucked off on one of the winding side streets that wove around the capitol. The shop front featured a large display window in front of the slate grey building, with an array of glittering jewels spread out to attract window shoppers. Seifer scanned the prisms of light that twinkled from behind the large pane of glass, searching for a specific glimmer.

There was the standard fare of diamonds and rubies lined up in velvet trays, and a few pendants laid gently across silk swaths of draped fabric. Towards the back, however, lay the item he was looking for.

The setting was a thin white gold band, a plain circlet with a normal four pronged setting. Within the setting, however, was the one of the most unique stones he had ever seen. It was a fiery blue stone, a round gem which caught the light in several different sunbursts of turquoise color. The bright celadon matched Quistis eyes exactly.

He had seen the way Quistis' gaze occasionally strayed to the rock on Rinoa's finger, and he hadn't missed the longing that flashed across her face when it did. Quistis never asked for anything, save maybe for dinner out or for him to fix something around the house. He didn't know if it was because Quistis was a naturally unselfish person, or if she was afraid of what his answer might be. Both seemed likely.

Although, come to think of it, she didn't ask him to fix anything anymore.

The sink-fixing incident, like the fish dinner disaster, was a catastrophe that was still near-legend, and the reason Seifer and Rajin had been banned from home improvement until the end of time.

Between Seifer's temper and Rajin's well-meaning tendency to blunder any situation he was in, they usually managed to further fuck up what they were attempting to fix, and, owing to their ability to use para magic, did so on a grander scale than most unhandy people. In this case, the upstairs bathroom sink was operable, save for a small drip that echoed through the hall at night. Quistis had begged Seifer to call in a repair man for a change, but Seifer, in a fit of male pride (and later, he recognized, harebrained stupidity) had insisted that he could do it himself.

The operation started out successfully enough. They hauled the necessary gear upstairs- a wrench, a hammer, a set of new washers, and a 24 pack of Balamb Lager. Seifer thought the problem was probably due to an old washer, or a bad seal on the pipe, while Rajin theorized that perhaps a bad seal on the faucet was to blame. After 5 beers each and several unsuccessful struggles to loosen the faucet, Seifer still thought the washer might be faulty, whereas Rajin was now blaming the water main with sweeping, slurred generalizations about water pressure. After two more beers, Rajin decided to use his 'Rajin Special' limit break to dislodge the invented clog in the exact moment Seifer managed to loosen the lower pipe. That lapse in judgment (or perhaps excess drunken zeal) had blown the water main, and the resulting pressure doused both him and Rajin, blew out the toilets, and caused the water pressure in the sink to send a flood gushing out.

Quistis, up until that moment, had been downstairs washing dishes. He could hear Quistis yell of surprise as the sink exploded, and the delighted barking of the dogs, who apparently loved water in any form or circumstance. Seifer had alternately cursed Rajin out and attempted to stop the wet and bubbling disaster that had until five minutes ago had been the bathroom sink by pressing his hands over the spout, until Quistis, ever calm under pressure, went to shut off the water pressure. She then climbed the stairs.

Each man felt her foot on the step as a countdown to the Armageddon. By the time she reached the top of the stairs her anger had only increased, despite the dampened state of her clothes. She appeared in the doorway, dripping wet and positively livid, her hair plastered to her face and her eyes fiery blue slits.

For an instant, he thought he was staring into the fearsome face of Shiva, although he highly doubted that Shiva would junction herself in blue jeans...and drenched on top of it.

A tense, sopping silence stretched between them.

Rajin and Seifer pointed at each other in silent, dumbfounded accusation, Rajin wincing as he waited for her to unleash hell. Instead of committing homicide, however, shed sighed, rolled her eyes, and called Selphie to go out for dinner and drinks, mumbling something unpleasant under her breath as she stalked out to change clothes.

Rajin, in celebration that his life would be spared, went out and bought another 24 pack of beer.

It took them 3 hours to dump out all the water, pail by tedious pail, then another hour to clean up the mess, allowing for beer breaks in between. By the time that the night ended, they were exhausted, drenched, and drunk.

The next day, cursing and hung over, he had called in a professional.

Quistis had raised an eyebrow, but wisely refrained from any I told you sos. If Seifer was learning to tone down his temper (if by a fraction), then Quistis had also been making an attempt to quell her bossier-than-hell-I-told-you-so tendencies, both with mixed results.

Having finished his lunch, Seifer licked the salt off of his fingers and crumpled the wax paper, stuffing the ball into his pocket as he walked inside the shop.

He was greeted almost immediately by a short, portly little man with an impressive handlebar mustache. They two men had met once before, and Seifer retained his first impression of the man as a crab in a 2 thousand gil suit, excitedly scuttling from one bright gem to the other with shining, eager eyes.

"Ah," he said, folding his hands as he approached Seifer. "You are ze young man zat fell in love with ze Shiva's Eye, eh? You see? I never forget a customer! I have been saving it for you! You see that I have moved it to the back, as I knew you would be returning!"

Jesuas Jonet, the owner of the store, fit the profile of a typical jeweler to a 'T'- he was pompous and neat-looking, with slicked silver hair and twitchy, curious little eyes that peeked out from beneath bushy eyebrows like small emerald birthstones.

Jesuas had seen the handsome young man once before- he had first stared intently though the window for almost half an hour at the gem before coming in and asking about it.

To his credit, the young man had hid his wince well when Jesuas quoted him the price.

Still, the jeweler was not deterred. Being a salesman of 30 years, he knew a potential buyer from a window shopper immediately- he could smell them out like truffles. This one was in love, this one was determined.

This one would be back.

The Shivas Eye was a 1 carat blue diamond. The blue tint was due to the presence of trace amounts of boron weaved throughout the carbon lattice, a very rare occurrence in naturally formed stones. The diamond had been recovered from an old shipwreck off the Centra shore by a diver that, fortunately for Jesuas, did not seem to know its true worth.

Being a stone of rarity and corresponding value, it had sat in Jesuas's storefront for years, waiting for the right buyer. Jesuas, being a man of patience, had waited for the right buyer to appear.

The owner scuttled over to a footstool, plucking the ring from its velvet bed and holding it up for Seifer to see. "Like the ocean, is it not? You are still interested, yes? The owner smiled, handing Seifer the ring and watching with happy anticipation as the young man held it up to the light again, his eyes narrowing. After a moment, he reluctantly placed the ring back into the jeweler's waiting palm. The jeweler did not miss the young mans hesitation in returning the gem, and grinned.

Something burned in Seifer, a determination he did not recognize.

So far, he'd been able to offer Quistis a sink hole of real estate on the water, a borrowed name, and one carved up excuse for a normal boyfriend.

She should have something nice....something someone like Serabin could have given her. Since a deep history of Dolletian history or an appreciation for the fine arts was way out of the fucking question, this would have to do.

An unpleasant nudge in Seifer's subconscious told him that he was only doing this to prove to men like Serabin that he deserved her.

A lower, even more disturbing nudge from his lower brain hinted at him that he was trying to prove it to _himself_.

"How much was it, again?

Delight surged in the owner, and it was all he could do not to clap his hands in shop owner glee. "As I said, as zere are some inclusions, ze ring is a steal at 45,000 gil, sir." There was a pause as he waited for Seifers answer. He twirled his mustache.

Seifer cringed inwardly as he reached into his pocket. 45,000 gil would cover the rest of the mortgage on the house, as well as reshingle the rest of the roof without him having to climb up on the clapboard deathtrap to do it.

He was going to have to take up a hell of a lot more high risk missions if he wanted to buy this thing before he died of old age.

Seifer pulled out a wad of gil, a sum procured by blood, sweat, and tears. Then again, though it was definitely his sweat, it was mostly other people's blood and tears.

"This is 25,000 gil," he said, handing it over. "I'd like to put a down payment on the ring."

_Fuck the roof. He wanted to see the look on her face when she opened the box._

.

...

...

It was a beautiful afternoon. Thick tufts of white cloud cast shadows out over the water and a warm breeze tangled through the trees, winding with the smell of cooking hot dogs and hamburgers to form a tantalizing aroma of salt and seasonings.

Beach chairs had been scattered over the sand, and a picnic table was brimming with bags of fresh buns, sliced fruit and pasta salad, and a large frosty pitcher of lemonade.

Everything was ready. All that was left was for the guests to arrive.

Well, almost ready. Tucking an errand lock of hair behind her ear, Quistis flapped open one of the blankets, settling it to the ground as it billowed in the wind. She weighted the edges down with stones in each corner, ensuring that the wind wouldn't scatter it into the water. She followed the same formula with the other blankets until she had a large, colorful section of the beach covered with cloth.

Quistis glanced behind her at the water, which was unusually turbulent today. Large waves curled and thundered into shore, curdling into white foam as they reached the sand. Despite the wind, it was a beautiful warm day. Quistis had worn a modest two piece black bathing suit, over which she'd layered a tank top and a billowy blue sarong.

Stalking back to the house, she grabbed an armful of throw pillows, tossing them across the blanket as she passed. She surveyed her work- there were blankets, lawn chairs, and plenty of food, most of which she'd purchased at the local store. However, she had tried her hand at making a fruit salad, and had been pleased with the result. One had only to cut it up, after all.

...she'd only cut herself twice.

Satisfied, she gave a small nod. Perfect. More than enough room for 8 people to stretch out, eat, and laze in the sun.

"Hey Quis!" called Rajin. "Guests're here, ya know!"

Quistis shielded her eyes from the sun to see four figures making their way from the yard. Cerberus and Styx barked, racing up to greet the new guests. Cherion, Zell's dog, bounded happily into the fray, the three set about sniffing one another immediately. Ma Dincht's dog, Chereb, walked politely at Zell's side, swishing her tail calmly from side to side in greeting.

Selphie had her hands around a large pink plastic bowl and was waddling in the direction of the table, trying to keep out of reach of the dogs' interested noses. Marshmallow surprise, no doubt, although the last time, Selphie had taken the 'surprise' part of it literally, and hadn't thought to notify anyone. Seifer had almost shattered a molar on a pewter bunny figurine stuck in a piece of jello, and Zell had nearly choked to death on a glitter bouncy ball hidden in a tuft of mashmallow. After that, the group had regarded Selphie's cooking as a potentially hazardous substance, on par with anything that Quistis managed to turn out. Quistis was insulted at having to share the same culinary status as Selphie- after all, she didn't put inedible objects into her food!

_Of course not_, a nagging voice whined in her ear. _Your food is inedible of its own accord.  
_  
_Shut up, brain_, she thought, waving as she walked up the path. The backyard was mostly a large patch of sand and a tangle of thin, sharp grass, but there was a small plank board pathway that carved down to the beach probably left there from the previous owners.

As she had suggested, all three were dressed suitably for a day at the beach- Zell wore a tank top and a pair of shorts with what looked like small green aliens printed into the fabric, while Selphie wore a yellow bikini so bright it stung Quistis' eyes. Irvine, wearing a loose-fitting white shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, was easiest on the eyes.

Zell waved, balancing what Quistis hoped was a bowl of Ma Dincht's world famous potato salad in his right hand.

"Hey Quis!" Irvine called, waving and holding up a 12 pack. "Brought some beer for you!"

"Thanks Irvine!" she called back. "Just set them in the cooler!"

Selphie, having managed to place the jello surprise onto the table without having it tipped over by the dogs, (much to Quistis' disappointment), turned to Quistis and gave her a bone-crushing hug. "Quisty! I'm so glad that we could all get together! Lately, it's nothing but missions, missions, missions! Not that I'm complaining, mind you, on the last one we got to detonate this big old factory, and you should have seen it go up! Biggest blast radius yet! Of course, it was kind of an accident that we blew it up....the terrorist sort of lit a molotov cocktail, and there was these old crates of gunpowder...Squally was actually kinda pissed....oh! Did you see Zell brought some potato salad, too?"

"I saw. I'm sorry Ma Dincht wasn't able to make it, though."

Selphie shrugged. "Don't be. She's out on a date. Don't say 'date' around Zell, though, he gets kinda weird about his mom going out."

"I'll bet." Quistis glanced back at Irvine and Zell, who had immediately begun a round of ultimate frisbee on the beach. Really, though, it looked more to be turning out as a game of keep-away from Styx and Cherion. Cerberus and Chereb, too dignified for games, had already settled on the blankets, watching the antics of their fellow pack-mates with a kind of lofty disdain.

"Grab a beer or lemonade Selphie, or if you'd like to wait, I've got a pitcher of margaritas inside."

"Ooooh, I'll wait on those margaritas! Can I help you with anything?"

"No, just grab a seat and relax. I'm just going to get the pitcher and some towels, I'll be right back out."

Quistis was halfway to the house when Rajin's yell caught her attention- five more figures were making their way across the yard. Quistis's smile widened at her unexpected guests and ran forward to meet the smallest of the five, who was running full-sprint with his arms spread, grinning.

"Auntee Kisteeee!" shouted Zack, colliding with her knees with the force of a bullet, nearly knocking her over in the process.

"We're crashing your party!" called Rinoa, waving. She was walking with her hand looped into Squall's arm, her other hand splayed over her stomach. Squall, meanwhile, was trying to balance an armful of towels, a beach ball, and two bags of chips in his other arm, with very limited success. Seraphim and Angelo ran up to the other dogs, barking happily. Quistis smiled at them. Seifer was right- when they all gathered together, they did kind of resemble an apocalyptic omen.

"Zack-man!" called Irvine, waving. "Come help us throw this frisbee, hey!"

"Well, this is a nice surprise!" said Quistis, patting Zack on the head as he ran off to hug Selphie and join his Uncle Irvine and Uncle Zell, "I didn't think you could make it!"

Rinoa smiled. "I know! Surprise!" Unwinding her arm from Squall's, she stepped forward to embrace Quistis.

**Sister.**

Quistis blinked as she pulled back, her ears ringing.

"Hey Rinoa, Squall, sir." called Rajin. "Glad you could make it, ya know!"

Squall shook his head as he unloaded his armful onto the picnic table, cursing as a bag of potato chips and a beach ball rolled off the end. "You don't have to call me 'sir', Rajin."

The big man scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, sorry, ya know. Old habits."

"I understand." Squall removed a towel from around his neck, looking around. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"Yeah. You can take over the grill, ya know," replied Rajin, unwinding the apron from around his neck. "I gotta run to the store and get some more ketchup. Quistis's been cookin' a lot lately, ya know," he added as a whispered aside, "An Seifern' I've found that if you put a lot of ketchup on-"

"Rajin," said Quistis, frowning as she approached, "I offered to watch the grill for your five minutes ago!"

"Uh, well, ya know, I didn't want the food to burn-"

"And why," asked Quistis, a dark look coming into her eyes, "Did you assume that the food would burn while **I** was watching it?"

Rajin's dark face blanched. Seifer just laughed when Quistis got all pissy, but damnit, she was scary when she was mad.

"Quistis, why don't you get Rinoa something to drink?" asked Squall, saving Rajin from certain death as the big man made a run for it.

Quistis glared after Rajin for a moment before looking back at her friend. "Of course. Would you like some lemonade? I made it this morning. Here, let's get you a seat." Taking Rinoa's arm, she led the girl over to the blanket, fluffing up her pillows as the Sorceress sat down.

"I'll get you the lemonade, Rin!" said Selphie quickly, who had apparently taken it upon herself to get the margaritas while Quistis was otherwise occupied. The young woman had a guilty rim of salt around her lips, and Quistis feverently hoped that Selphie's latest affair with the drink wouldn't turn out like last time, when, after 7 margaritas, Selphie decided that Balamb should have its very own nude beach, and decided to institute it...right away.

"This is great!" exclaimed the pretty dark-haired woman. "It's so wonderful to have all these willing slaves! I should be pregnant more often!"

Squall smiled and rolled his eyes, tying Rajin's apron around his waist. Quistis had to admit, it was rather odd to see her former Commander wearing shorts and a (typical) black t-shirt, and now, to top it off, a 'kiss the cook' apron. Shed grown used to the uniform.

Squall really had relaxed over the years, she mused, cracking open a Hynekan and handing it over to her friend.

"I don't burn the meat..." she muttered, ignoring Squall's poorly concealed smile as she opened a beer for herself. Living with Rajin and Seifer, she'd had to develop a taste for the beverage: every time she came for the weekend, there was usually nothing in the fridge but moldy cheese and beer and whatever mystery food they'd let spoil. Quistis had once told Seifer that without her frequent visits to the Sea-shack, the two would starve to death. Seifer had replied that with her cooking, they still might share that fate.

He still had a bruise on his left leg in the shape of a spatula.

By the time Quistis joined them, Selphie had already crashed down next to Rinoa on the blanket, margarita in hand. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming, Rin?"

"Because then it wouldn't be a surprise, Selphie," replied Rinoa, taking a sip of her lemonade. "Mmmm, this is great, thank you."

"I don't like surprises," declared Selphie, "Unless, of course, I know about them in advance."

Quistis and Rinoa shared a look.

Selphie leaned back on a stack of pillows, taking a large gulp of her margarita. "Ahhhhh. This is the life." The other two women, now leaning back and enjoying a fine view of the sky, had to agree.

"Incoming!" shouted Irvine, and the three girls barely had time to react before a brightly colored frisbee, followed by 4 Wendigo spawn-sized dogs, flew past the blanket scattering sand, blankets, and drinks in their wake. Squall, swearing, managed to keep the grill upright, uttering a curse that Zack happily repeated across the beach.

Selphie, now wearing most of her margarita, began angrily sputtering half-garbled swear words at both Zell and Irvine, taking off one of her shoes and chasing after them, wielding her pink sandal over her head as fiercely as her nunchaku.

Quistis glanced quickly over at Rinoa. "Are you all right?"

But Rinoa's gaze was fixed past her, watching Selphie try to brain Zell with her shoe as Irvine, laughing, stayed clear. Zak laughed, clapping his hands together in glee at the violence unfolding between his aunt and uncles. Satisfied with the scene before her, Rinoa lay back down against the pillows.

The sorceress smiled. "Selphie's right. This _is_ the life."

Much later, after the group had filled their stomachs with burgers, potato salad, and even a timid helping of Selphies jello surprise, they toasted marshmallows by the fire, mashing the warm, puffed sugar between a wedge of chocolate and two pieces of graham cracker and making an awful mess. Their mouths sticky and their feet sandy, they stayed up well into the night, just as they had as children. Selphie had brought sprarklers, and the group laughed as she and Zack danced with them in hand. Irvine recounted amusing tales from the orphanage, while Selphie stuck to current events. Rajin told a couple of amusing tales of The Posse from back in the day, his eyes bright with the pleasure-pain of nostalgia. After Zack had fallen asleep on the blankets between the three young women, Squall even consented to tell a ghost story that had their hair on end. After awhile, they simply lay out underneath the sky, watching for shooting stars.

After fetching more blankets from inside to tuck around Zack, Quistis lay back on the blanket between Rinoa and Zell, who was already snoring.

Rinoa motioned to two forms beside her. "My men," she said, laughing softly. "Fast asleep."

Like Zell, Squall looked to have dozed off, Zack curled against his side with his head on his fathers shoulder. Selphie had long passed out in margaritaville, this time before she could enact any nude beaches. Thank Hyne. Quistis draped blankets over all three of them. Irvine had gone for a walk and still hadnt returned, saying something about catching a mermaid. He'd had several beers, so no one paid him much attention.

"Thank you, Quistis, for today," said Rinoa. Quistis glanced at her as she settled back down again. The young womans hair was spread all around her on the blankets, looping and curling in thick silken tendrils. Her dark eyes were filled with stars. She seemed beautiful and soft, a pale jewel beneath the night sky. It was times like this that Quistis understood why Squall fell in love with her.

_Whatever happens_, thought Quistis, _this is how I want to remember her._

"This has been a perfect day, whispered Rinoa. "I hope we can have more-"

There, Rinoa's voice trailed off, but Quistis knew what she had left unfinished.

_I hope we can have more...**before the end.**_

Quistis found her friend's hand in the darkness, and gave it a small squeeze.

"We will."

That night, the group stayed under the stars without worries or missions, as they had been burdened with during the war. They talked and dozed and laughed as they had, years ago, when they had lived in an orphanage by the sea, bound by their loneliness and a war's strange fate.

..

.....

........

....

Down in the basement of Shinra's rapidly expanding headquarters, there was a flurry of activity. A dot matrix printer trembled with the effort as it spewed out page after page of data, and two different computer monitors flashed with different readings as they finished running their analysis. To the back of a lab, a centrifuge announced its completion with a shrill, insistent beep.

Dr. Gast was as animated as his machinery. He stalked from one thing to another, his energy unwavering despite not having slept in nearly two days. When the printer stopped he stalked over to it, gathering the feeds in one sloppy roll. Gast muttered to himself as he set them down, the sheath spilling to the floor.

Walking over to his monitors, he noted the progress on the clipboards before removing his samples from the centrifuge.

Excitement thrummed through him, boundless and sharp in his chest like an icepick stabbing with every heartbeat.

He was close. Close to something.

Sliding up to his computer, he accessed his personal log. This log was password protected, even from Hojo. As Hojo pushed his military aspirations with little to no consultation with Gast, Gast was finding it increasingly prudent to keep his findings private as well. This was not only because he did not trust Hojo (and was increasingly disinclined to trust Shinra Corp because of their continued and unwavering support _of_ Hojo), but because he feared what Hojo would do with the information if he found it.

Hojo would most likely apply the findings to his next text group of soldiers, criminals, and the hapless homeless, without regard for its present and future implications. After all, he had already done so in the past.

Gast glanced over his shoulder as he typed his password. Satisfied that the lab was empty and adjusting his glasses, he began to record his findings.

_"Specimen 7749 is recovering in well in the biotanks- regeneration of tissue at 33% is the best we can hope for, I think. Analysis of the major (and remaining) organs show a possible reason for the genetic anomaly: it is a virus. While we first suspected a cellular cancer, there is none present in any of the samples taken, no cellular irregularity that mimics a cancerous growth. I have taken two readings to make sure, and the second readings confirm the first. The virus was present in all samples._

___Specimen 041657 shows an immediate response to increased glucose levels, with almost instantaneous regulation. It would appear that though the subject was nearly killed by increased free association of unprecedented Mako blood concentrations, vitality, internal regulation, and continued homeostasis have all returned._

___Specimen 041657 is also the exact same virus._

___The infection itself appears to be a retrovirus. Standard 5' cap and 3'PolyA tail. Virions are enveloped, highly pleomorphic, neocapsids are isometric, give or take. Beyond that, and perhaps because of its pleomorphic nature, I am unsure as to its true structural form. I can only be certain of its most frequent sequence, it seems. I've never seen its sequence before, and there's no basis for comparison on any of the CDC databases, public or private. The virus does not appear to be an immunodeficiency virus, as, though white cells respond to it as foreign and cause an increase of their presence in the host, the virus does not appear to target or destroy them. In Host A, the regenerated tissue shows the presence of increased neurotransmitter concentrations per cell site binding formations, although what connection this has to the identified virus I cant yet be sure. As to what use these increased neurotransmitter concentrations serve the virus, I can for now only speculate, as Specimen 7749 has no measurable brain function (and never will). _

___In Host B, no such concentrations exist, and the virus, for all intents and purposes, seems to be relatively dormant. The only sign of infection is a prolonged large white cell response._

___Can the disease help to account for the nearly unprecedented concentrations of sustained Mako presence in the blood/tissue in both subjects, or is this simply a strange genetic coincidence? How can I know, without transference to a new host? (This I refuse to do.) I have obtained a small rodent test group, and am testing both a control and an experimental group at close proximity to the generator. My public study is one of measuring biotic response to mako withdrawl, to keep the environmental groups off of our backs. Privately, I want to measure the degeneration of those infected, vs. control._

___Even now, I marvel at the connection. Thousands of years between them, and they share the same disease."_

_.._

_._

_.._

_._

Cups and saucers rattled together as waitresses cleared them from the tables. The smell of coffee, ketchup, and hash browns hung heavy in the air, covering the patrons in a warm and homey cloud of home-cooked comforts. Only four patrons graced the all-night diner, and only two were sober enough for conversation.

"We really have to stop meeting like this," mumbled Seifer, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. As of today, hed been up a constant 52 hours, and the world was starting to lurch from side to side without warning. He had to fight to keep his eyes open, and longed for the solid sanctuary of his bed. His white coat had been unzipped to his waist; his holochip wasnt due to fade out for another three hours. Xu was wearing a long overcoat with a black cap pulled over her hair- she looked almost human dressed like that, and almost as exhausted as he felt.

"Believe me," Xu yawned. "If I could avoid it, I would. Now, whats the news on that little project?"

"Some new developments," he replied, pulling out a sheet of paper and sliding it across the table. "My contact this time was actually useful. They bought something this time."

Xus eyes flickered over the list. "These are ingredients for..."

"Yeah. Sounds like they're going to blow something up within the next couple months. Something big, judging by the raw materials. I'd bet my ass its one of the new extraction sites."

Xu took a sip of coffee, swirling the dark liquid around in her cup. "But which one? Shinras got about 17 current excavation sites, and one upcoming."

"Upcoming?"

"You've heard of that new town thats cropping up in the shadow of Mt. Nibel, right?"

"Passed through it, yeah." Seifer made a face at the taste of his coffee.

"Well, their latest site was the catalyst for all that development in the first place, and its going to be big. Shinra just did a press release about it- theyre going to invite the media, several politicians, and theyre going to have a couple of their scientists on hand to answer questions. They want a shot of positive press to grease the wheels on their upcoming military contracts."

"Military contracts?" Seifer's brow furrowed.

Xu took a sip of coffee, her dark eyes guarded. "Yes, the company already has plans to expand into the military sect, privatized security, things like that."

"Do I want to know how you know this?"

"No."

Seifer sat back in his seat, tapping his fingers along the sticky red vinyl. "You know, the rogue sects claims about the drilling aren't unfounded. Tectonic activity around the sites has risen 86% since they started drilling- it royally fucks up the plates and it really destroys the area around it. Scientists are saying they havent ever seen plate shifts on this kind of scale before, and according to the DS. Research center, there's massive degeneration of flora and fauna around the-"

"I'm not interested in their motives, or their morales," replied Xu curtly. "We've been issued a security contract for each of the sites, and our new priority is to keep them safe."

"We're making an enemy of our enemy?" asked Seifer, raising an eyebrow. "Havent you heard the old saying?"

"We're turning a profit," snapped Xu. "Besides, were only running site security. Anything that Eve does will make them seem like the aggressor, not us."

"Something tells me," said Seifer, declining the offer of a refill from a passing waitress, "That PR isnt their first priority."

"Well, like it or not, Shinra Materia site security is now _our_ priority," said Xu grimly.

"Do I _want_ to know why Shinra site security is suddenly our priority?"

Xu let her head fall back on the cushioned seat. "No. From now on, you're on a need-to-know basis."

Seifers lips turned up in a half smile, but it was not friendly. "_From now on_? When have you ever considered it a priority for me to know anything in the first place?"

In response, the headmistress threw down a handful of gil. "I'll call you when Ive got something else," she muttered, then turned to walk out.

Seifer briefly considered sleeping in the diner before hauling himself out of the booth and heading home.

The salt air was cold on his arms, and above him, the stars spread out overhead like a wide, bright blanket. He could feel the ring box in his right breast pocket, an exciting and alien weight against his heart.

..

.

..

.

Cycles.

The world was full of cycles, a series of intricate and infinite loops that twisted back and forward, engraved by space and time. Water fell, vanished, and fell again- life repopulated and extinguished, planets turned and seasons followed. Stars were born and died in baths of darkness and bursts of light.

A spread of star-filled sky loomed over the small traveler as he carved his way through the icy crust of snow and mountain, his hood fluttering in the wind. He followed the light of a star that had shone down on him since his birth. The star had died long ago- the echo of its light still reached down to trace patterns on the worlds beyond it.

Cycles.

Cycles shaped the world, churned the tides and swept lives and fates and dreams along as carelessly as an ocean tosses shells. There is no mercy in cycles, no mercy in time and space and entropy- time, especially, is not excused from the succession of the universe. Time, too, can loop, and turn, and shape itself. Time is a dead star, whose light may bend back to shape it.

The single traveler stopped a moment to admire the starlight- to feel the wind stinging his cheek and the chill of the mountains sink deep into his bones. He was heading into the eye of the hurricane, now, although his countenance did not betray an inch of worry. It would be good to feel the sun again, to see old friends and ease the ache in his bones. It was time for one last journey.

It was time for another cycle to begin.

.

.

.

..

..

.

kudos to you who recognize who the traveler is.


	12. Letter 5

_My dear friend!_

Zack 'Cid' Fair arrived with us on February 17th at exactly 6:47 a.m, after only three hours of labor. (which, between you and me, felt like about 13!) I knew it was a boy, but I pretended to act surprised for the benefit of Squall and the doctors. (Squall didn't want to know beforehand, and I didn't want to ruin it for him.) Quisty, it was amazing-when the doctor put that little blue bundle into my arms, when I looked down into his face, it was like I fell in love with him, right then- loved him more than anything in the span of just a second. How can you love someone so much that you just met? I suppose it was the same with Squall - when I first saw him in the ballroom I was drawn to him right away, too. Like father, like son, right?

Quistis, you should see him! I cant wait for you to get here! He has dark hair, like mine, but Squall's eyes- I was hoping he'd have Squall's eyes. You should have seen the look on Squall's face when they handed Zack over to him- half helpless and half terrified, his hands fumbling as he tried to adjust Zack in his arms. I still think Squall thinks he's going to break him, somehow. I laugh now to think of it- Squall Leonhart, world savior, the famous Lion of Balamb- scared of a baby! Men are so silly sometimes, aren't they? I left Zack with Squall on the back porch for them to do some male bonding, and now here I am in the study writing you a letter- a mother, me, can you believe it? I can't wait for you and Selphie to come out and see the baby. Squall's taken some time off of work, as you know, so I'm looking forward to enjoying some time with my men for the next few weeks (and my friends too- get your butts out here!!!).

It's a strange feeling, being a mother. Alien. Scary. Exhilarating. Do you ever wonder about your mother, Quistis? I do, especially now. About what it was like for her, carrying me, worrying about what kind of person Id be or what kind of life Id lead. I remember my mothers face, snippets of her voice, and what I imagine her laugh sounded like. But otherwise, going through my memories, I'm starting to realize that I didn't know much about her at all. She was beautiful, of course, and I remember her as always being very kind...but she was always so sad. I used to sit at her ankles while she played the piano and watch her feet bob up and down on the pedals, watch her fingers dance across the keys. Id look up into her face, and she always seemed like she was somewhere else, like she just floated away on her music. I always thought then that I wanted to be exactly like my mother when I grew up- beautiful and famous and talented....but now, looking back, I'm glad I didn't. Of course, I grew up to be a sorceress instead- I wonder what my mother would think of that!

The doctor says Zack is a healthy, perfect boy- 7 pounds, 12 ounces, ten fingers, ten toes, and a nice set of lungs. He seems like a happy, normal baby- nothing about the sorceress seems to stain him, and I can't sense anything on him. Squall was worried about that, I could tell, but this...thing...whatever it is, seems to prefer women. I tried to explain it to Squall, but couldnt. There have been men in the lineage, surely...but not many. I'd be lying, though, in saying I hadn't worried a little- a sorceress having a child hasn't ever been documented before. Then again, not much has, aside from all the terror, the wars and the witch hunts. I can understand the fear and that hatred, but these people...they were people once, weren't they? Apart from the curse? And yet, all they are remembered for is the terrible things they did while some incredible power wore their bodies like a shield. I wonder what I'll be remembered for?

Hopefully nothing.

When I'm fully recuperated, I want to take a hike to the Centra Ruins. I remember it vaguely from our journeys, but I'd like to take a closer look now that we live so close. It was such a pretty area, and I always felt like we were missing something when we rushed through it. I read those papers you sent along by that Dr. Gast, and his theory of the Centra/Cetra civilization that died out many years ago who originally settled in that area. From his research, though, the Cetra seemed to be a predominantly Gaia-based people- it surprised me that Gast theorized that the Cetra built part of the ruins towards the end of their civilization, out of a desperate attempt to survive. It seems kind of sad that in the end they gave up their god to live. Then again, look at the legend of Hyne- that guy seemed like a real jerk, and there are still temples in his honor today! At any rate, Gods aside, it will be fascinating to take a closer look at those caves. Ill be sure and take pictures to show you. After all, I have all the free time I know how to deal withalthough I bet Ill have a lot less now that Zacks here!

How are things going with Seifer? It's been almost a year and a half now, hasn't it, since the Third Sorceress War? You and Seifer need to come over for a visit and see Zack now- you're his aunt and uncle, after all! Selphie said you two looked very cute at the last Garden meeting- do I hear wedding bells in the distance? (I can just see you smiling and shaking your head.) I know Seifer can be frustrating sometimes, but Quistis, you should see the way he looks at you! I've never seen him look at anybody or anything that way before, not even his own reflection. (Wasn't there a myth about some guy that drowned in his own reflection? I used to kid Seifer about that.) Tell Narcissius (I just remembered the name!) the residents of the sea cottage send their regards to those of the sea shack.

Selphie called the other day. We talked for quite awhile, but there was something missing in her voice- she just wasn't her usual cheerful self and she didn't bring Irvine up at all. Is something going on?

I can hear the natives getting restless out on the front porch, so I'd better sign off for now. Call me as soon as you get this letter- we have so much to catch up on!

Much love,  
Rinoa


	13. A Dream Within a Dream

Author's note: Hello and thanks to all of you still reading! (and thanks so much to all of you for the reviews!!!) I'm afraid this chapter will be a little on the short side, but there was no other way to divide up the chapters without an awkward break. The next chapter should follow very shortly, as I've got it all written out and it just needs a little tweaking. Oh, and kudos to FallenAngelCyril- you're right on! A 'dream within a dream' is a nod to the fantastic poet Poe, which you see below. Why, oh, why, does this site eat half of my punctuation? I'm getting really irritated.

Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.

_Take this kiss upon the brow!  
And, in parting from you now,  
Thus much let me avow-  
You are not wrong, who deem  
That my days have been a dream;  
Yet if hope has flown away  
In a night, or in a day,  
In a vision__, or in none,  
Is it therefore the less gone?  
All that we see or seem  
Is but a dream within a dream._

I stand amid the roar  
Of a surf-tormented shore,  
And I hold within my hand  
Grains of the golden sand-  
How few! yet how they creep  
Through my fingers to the deep,  
While I weep- while I weep!  
O God! can I not grasp  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save  
One from the pitiless wave?  
Is all that we see or seem  
But a dream within a dream?

-Edgar Allan Poe

…..

…

..

The Esthar Correctional Facility was a looming grey structure on the edge of town with a collection of dead shrubberies sprinkled across the impressively sprawling front lawn. Higher than the dried and dying bushes were a collection of old skeletal trees that stretched their cracked and spindly arms into the sky, a disturbing sight even to the sane.

During the day, the facility was filled with the squeak of wheelchairs, the bustle of medical staff, and the murmurs and screams of the patients. At night, the building seemed empty and remote, save for an occasional thin scream or chuckle from one of the rooms.

The nurse's station was an island cubicle surrounded by glass and the drone and flicker of a television. The nurse, a plump and ragged-looking woman who looked as if she had seen it all and was impressed with none of it, glanced up from the sitcom blaring to regard the guest with a look that lingered somewhere between boredom and exasperation. "Visiting hours are over."

"I'm here to see a patient," replied the man. "Dr. Odine."

"Perhaps I was unclear." The nurse raised a thick, eyebrow that was as good as a glaring 'no-bullshit' sign. "Let's try this again. I say 'visiting hours are over'. Then you reply, 'oh I see', and come back in the morning, just like everybody else."

A thin, high scream echoed down the hall, and then everything was silent. The nurse ignored the outburst, squinting as an id was pressed against the glass. Her eyes flickered from Gast's face to the piece of plastic, and she pursed her lips. "Room 115, down the hall on your left."

Room 115 was at the end of the hall, and light spilled from the crack under the door. The guest did not bother to knock.

The room was small and cramped, a situation that was not helped by the hundreds of drawings and scribblings that had been tacked to the wall. The bed had been shoved far against the side wall, and a small table and two chairs sat in the middle of the room, covered in papers. Dr. Odine sat in one of the chairs, scribbling furiously away at a notebook with a felt-tipped pen.

Dr. Odine's once flamboyant garb had been substituted for the drab grey jumpsuit that all patients wore, and his once jet black hair was graying and arranged in haphazard clumps around his face. His eyes snapped up as his guest walked into the room, a shrill chuckle bursting form his lips.

"I vondered ven you might come," he mused. "Dr. Gast, I presume?"

The scientist nodded, and at Odine's beckoning, took a chair across the table.

"You vill forgive me for not offering you a cup of tea, yes? Zeese are ze best accommodations that ze Garden Council will allow, although, it eez an improvement from zee straight jacket and zee bread crusts shoved down my throat. I must remember to send Shinra a proper zank-you." Dr. Odine cocked his head, resembling a half-plucked parrot. "What may I do for you?"

Gast kept his briefcase on his lap. "I suppose it's more of a question of what you have been doing for us, Dr. Odine."

The doctor smiled. "Hojo does not keep you updated, I think?"

Gast lifted a shoulder. "We have little time to collaborate."

At that, Odine broke into a laugh. "Hojo has never stuck me as von who vorks vell vith uzzers. Eef you are ignorant of his current…directions, most likely eet iz deliberately so, yes?"

Gast took his exasperation and tried to file it away with his exhaustion, in a dark corner where it could fester quietly. Strangling Odine would accomplish nothing, and it would turn his uncomfortable five hour train ride into a complete waste of time. What would Hojo do?

That was easy. Hojo would threaten him.

"It is my understanding that your current accommodations are the direct result of Shinra's interference with the life sentence the Garden Council imposed on you following the hearing five years ago. Under the agreement you signed, all designated research you perform is directed by and property of Shinra Corp. As a member of Shinra Corp's Science Division, I am here to benefit from your research. I suggest you update me accordingly, lest your accommodations suffer...accordingly."

The doctor's smile slid slowly off of his face. "Vat vould you like to be caught up on, Dr. Gast?"

Gast sighed. "…everything."

….

…

….

…

It was night now. She knew it was night because the woman's eyes perceived the amount of light reflecting off objects, because her corneas bent and refracted the rays that passed through her pupils, focusing the retinas in the back, which then converted the light into an electrical impulse and sent those impulses to the brain, where the woman formed her images and where the monster ate them as her own.

In simple terms, she could sense night in the same way she could sense everything else- because the woman sensed things- the conscious thoughts streaming to her like a gentle river with her at its bottom. She was a part of the woman, after all.

She could sense the sounds in the house, and farther beyond, she could hear the ebb and flow of the ocean, a sound as soft and constant as the woman's heartbeat.

She could feel and see and taste everything that the woman touched and saw and ate, but she was not the woman, nor did she wish to be. Wishing was an ability that was not of her kind- the woman's hopes and dreams was alien to her, as alien as she was to the body she inhabited. Even now, she could feel the body's rejection effect bubbling along the edge of her consciousness, a prickly aberration that had absolutely no effect on her whatsoever.

The duality did not bother her. Since her birth, she had always inevitably been a 'we', a seed buried deep in another. She could not survive by herself- the woman and beings like her had been a necessity since she first knew consciousness. This particular host was beginning to struggle a little lately, to become more aware of her thoughts and her movements. The woman was beginning to itch with her-it was more inconvenient than anything. Over the years, over all the bodies and minds and hearts she had shed like snakeskin, she had come to regard those she inhabited as a kind of collective nothing, an inconsequential medium she tore through like tissue paper when they ceased to be of use. They had all struggled, some of them far more powerful, more able, more capable than her present vessel. They all resisted, eventually, and they withered into brittle husks and scattered into the wind, just like the ashes of their fragile worlds that followed. She had chosen this woman, alive and breathing in this particular space and time, because she was the safest place for her to be. She needed the woman for now, and so, for now, the woman lived.

She had no name, at least, none that she gave herself. Identity came from the Others, and she had no interest in things that originated outside herself. She was terribly singular. There was she, the hunger, the center of her own universe, and there were the rest of them, the Others, the refuse- the things to be eaten.

'She' was no more female than she was anything else- she was a living appetite, a nearly indefinable hunger that could strip a world dry with a swipe of her dark tongue. The identity of the woman suited her as well as any, for now- she curled down deep in the core of the woman's heart, wrapped in her synapses and tangled in her thoughts. She felt the bubble of the woman's laughter- the burden of her sadness, the endless hot pacing of her frustrations. She watched the woman's world like a fish watches shadows on the water from beneath the waves.

Soon, she would make her move. But not now. Not when the Others were united like this, when bonds were strong and the atmosphere outside was peaceful and calm. Too much attention would be attracted to her too soon. She would wait for the chaos which was inevitable in this kind of world, the disorder and the panic that eased her way through the streets and through the earth and into the things she desired. These particular creatures were capable of creating this disorder in waves, seemingly incapable of learning from their past mistakes. And if they were a little slow in creating the next cycle of chaos, well, a little push might be in order. In the bedlam, she would go unnoticed…until it was far too late.

There was no hurry. Time meant as little to her as identity- she could measure eons in a teaspoon, could count the birth and sigh of old worlds in the blink of her sightless eye. She was hungry, always hungry, but she was patient above all else. It was why she had lived so long. It was why she would continue to exist long after this world and this woman were nothing but a forgotten dream, spinning through space in pieces.

There was time, and there was life, and there were worlds beyond this one waiting to be devoured.

And so, as the woman slept, she dreamed the woman's dreams.

_And she waited.  
_...............

….

…

By the time Seifer returned to the Sea Shack from his meeting with Xu, the sun was beginning to rise.

Lawn chairs and the smoldering remains of a fire were scattered in the sand- he vaguely remembered Quistis mentioning a bonfire with the whole gang and was surprised to find that he was actually a little disappointed that he'd missed it. Glyph was sitting out on the beach, his head tucked under his wing. The chocobo, used to his scent, did not even raise his head as he passed.

There were two Garden vehicles outside- one a drab grey sedan and another car he instantly recognized as Squall's, a light blue convertible he'd had restored yet again after crashing it into an iron gate. Resisting the urge to key it (old habits died hard) he shed his jacket and walked onto the porch, a very welcome sight coming into view.

Quistis was curled up on the porch swing between Styx and Cerberus, looking dwarfed by the large, sprawling mass of mongrels. She was fast asleep and using Cerberus as a pillow, her head wedged in the dip between the soft slab of muscle on his hind leg and the round bulge of his belly. Styx, not to be undone, had curled up along the opposite end and was acting as an unofficial foot warmer. A blanket had been draped over all of them, making the three of them look like some sort of mangled, three-headed beast with one human component. Cerberus opened an eye as Seifer approached and let out a soft, low growl that might have been a greeting. Styx was less subtle. He bounded to his feet, nearly upending the swing in the process, and immediately set to trying to lick Seifer's face.

Quistis' sleepy blue gaze was on him now, and she was smiling. "You're back." she whispered.

"You miss me?" he asked, sitting down on the newly vacated portion of the swing, absently petting Styx around the ears as the dog attempted to tunnel into him with his massive head.

"Only a little," she replied, sitting up herself and planting a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. He smiled, liking the gentle familiarity of her greeting.

"Doesn't look like you've wanted for company any," he observed, winding an arm around her as she leaned into him. "So, did you all get completely drunk and let your inhibitions run wild last night? Oh, please say yes." She grinned and tried to push him away, but he gripped her tighter. "I can see it now, all you girls throwing caution to the wind, along with your clothes-"

"Irvine and Zell might've," she said, yawning. "The last time I saw them, they were walking arm and arm, singing an old battle hymn and talking about swimming naked in the ocean."

"Where is everyone, anyway?" asked Seifer, making a face and immediately trying to dispel the image of Chickenwuss and the cowboy flopping around naked and drunk in the waves.

"Inside. Nobody felt like driving home, and it was nice to have the company here." replied Quistis, stretching. "I let Squall, Rinoa and Zack have our bed upstairs-"

"You let Puberty King in our bed? Shit, I'm going to have to burn all the sheets-" interrupted Seifer.

"Zell's on one of the couches," continued Quistis, ignoring him. "Irvine and Selphie are in the guest room. Rajin passed out, so we dragged him into his boathouse. None of us could really lift him, so we just covered him up on the floor." She smiled. "It was too bad, really, he was just starting into this interesting limmerick about this old woman from Eeeling-"

"Yeah, I've heard it," replied Seifer, who had gotten ridiculously drunk with Rajin on more than one occasion and had plenty of opportunity to listen to his friend's horrible drunken poetry. The nicest thing that Seifer could find to say about Rajin's poetry was that it rhymed…most of the time.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there last night," said Quistis.

"Yeah, me too," replied Seifer. And it was true- he would have much rather been drinking with his friends than cramped in some rent-by-the-hour hovel on the outskirts of Esthar, trying to spy on a group of aspiring anarchists that were about as easy to locate as a Cactuar's asshole.

_His friends?_ Seifer's mind did a double-take at the thought that had so casually flitted across his conscious moments before. Well, they'd all come for his birthday last year, and Irvine and Zell had even stopped by occasionally with a case of beer. Mainly, they fished with Rajin off the pier, drank the beer, and told increasingly ridiculous stories of conquest and adventure with every beer they drank. Over the last year they'd even helped him fix parts of the roof, for free. Rinoa always sent her regards in her letters, and Selphie had even baked him one of her famous Triple Layer Surprise cakes on his birthday last year. (Everyone had scraped their plates under the table when she wasn't looking and let the dogs eat it.) Nice gesture or no, Seifer sure as hell wasn't eating anything Tilmitt made that had the word 'surprise' in it- the young woman tended to take her cooking terms extremely literally.

(Sure enough, after dinner Styx had vomited a chess piece.)

Come to think of it, over the last few years, Seifer had done quite a few things with the orphanage gang that hadn't involved Quistis at all. Did that make them friends?

_Yeah, it kinda did. Holy hell. He'd been absorbed at the fringes without his knowledge, gone from exiled to included._"What are you thinking about?" asked Quistis, frowning at him.

_About friends I didn't realize I had or wanted_, thought Seifer. "About fucking around on the porch."

She swatted at him, smiling. "Is your mind always in the gutter?"

He pretended to consider. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

In truth though, he was past exhausted, and so they sat in silence for awhile, his arm around her, the sun staining the ocean a deep, almost plum-tinted red as it appeared in the corner of the sky. Seifer thought about the box in his pocket. Now would be the perfect time- the perfect scenery, he had been rehearsing the speech in his head and it didn't sound too ridiculous. Slowly, his hand reached into his jacket pocket....

"Mornin', ya know." muttered Rajin, running a hand over his eyes as he slumped up the porch steps. "What'd I miss last night?"

"Pretty much everything after dinner, actually," replied Quistis, laughing. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Like I got run over by a herd o' cactuar," mumbled Rajin. "Well, guess I'll get breakfast goin' then, ya know. You guys want pancakes or eggs an' bacon?"

"Both," replied Quistis, stretching. At Seifer and Rajin's amazed looks, she shrugged. "Your ridiculous appetites are starting to rub off on me. Can you make those blueberry pancakes again, Rajin?"

"Sure," replied Rajin, smiling. "Didn't know you liked 'em so much." Looking pleased with himself, the large man shuffled past them, ducking underneath the door frame as the screen slammed shut behind him.

A low rumble of voices and the creaking of stairs announced that others were begrudgingly beginning to rise as well.

Seifer turned to Quistis again, his hand closing around the small velvet box. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about," he said.

"Oh? What is it?"

"It's just thinking, well, I guess…I was wondering if-"

"UNCLE FEIFER!!! YOU COMES HERE!" exclaimed an exuberant voice, and soon Zack had crashed through the screen door, wearing an overlarge t-shirt that looked like an old one of Seifer's. The little boy immediately attached himself like a black-haired barnacle to Seifer's legs.

Quistis was still looking at him expectantly, smiling as Zack grinned up at him with adoring blue eyes. "Wanna play with me? Wanna go swim now?"

"Yeah, sure kid, after breakfast," replied Seifer, ruffling his hair. The kid _was_ kinda cute, even if he was the spawn of Squall.

"Okay!" agreed the two-year-old, dragging Seifer inside by the hand. Being much taller, Seifer had to hunch over to accomodate the child's grip. "Come!"

Quistis was laughing. "What was it you wanted to ask me, anyway?"

Seifer just shook his head. "Oh…uh, it doesn't matter, I guess. We'll talk about it later."

Seifer cast a furtive look at the sunset as he was dragged inside. It would have been a perfect time...but no, there would be time later, and next time, hopefully he wouldn't lead into it like a stuttering fucking idiot.

"Hey Zack, go get that pitcher of ice water off the table. It's time to wake up Uncle Chickenwuss."

…….

….

..

Rinoa leaned back in her seat, letting the wind play with her hair as Squall drove along the coastline. She had always liked the convertible- liked to close her eyes and feel the wind on her cheeks and feel like she was flying. In the backseat, Zack dozed, Angelo and Seraphim on either side of him. She was glad they'd brought the dogs, if for no other reason than they provided excellent pillows. Zack's three uncles had worn him out in the surf that morning. Rinoa had laughed to see three grown men chasing a little boy no taller than their kneecaps through the water, swinging him into the waves and gathering him up on their shoulders. It had been something to see Seifer and Zell and Irvine, once mortal enemies, united in the cause of making a little boy laugh.

Squall had been on a call with Xu in the house, and when he exited, he looked less than thrilled. Rinoa could sense that the easy feeling he'd had sitting with his friends the night before fading, and she was sorry to see it go. Squall carried so much of the world on his shoulders, and that was to say nothing of the burden he bore for her.

After leaving the Sea Shack, she and Squall had stopped for lunch along the shore, getting fried clams and fries and eating them off of cardboard plates at the water's edge. As Zack ran with the dogs along the shore, Rinoa and Squall sat on a small stone bench and watched th waves. Squall's gunmetal gaze followed his son up and down the surf, his mouth tight.

"Gil for your thoughts?" she asked him, winding her hand through his. When he didn't answer, she continued talking. That was the secret of Squall, she'd found- surround him with words so that he felt safe enough to inject his own.

"Last night was nice, wasn't it? It's so good to see Quistis so happy." And her friend was happy- Rinoa felt she now knew Quistis well enough to measure her smiles, to gauge and separate the emotions in her voice. It was wonderful to see Quistis and Seifer together- to see how he always seemed to find an excuse to touch her, to watch as Quistis leaned into that touch, both of them seemingly unaware of the magnet that drew them together. "It was great to have everybody together. We really should have something at the house, sometime- Edea would love the company, not to mention Celes and Armond- they get so isolated out there." Rinoa worried often about the children, about their lack of company and the way they seemed to want to play only with each other, lost in their own little worlds.

"Yeah," said Squall, his eyes still following Zack. "Xu's signed us on to a security contact with Shinra. We're acting as the guard detail at all of their mako extraction sites for the next two years. In a couple of weeks, we're going to be their main security at their grand opening to the press and the public."

_And now we get to it._

"You're not happy about the contracts." Said Rinoa.

"I'm not happy with allying ourselves any further to Shinra. It gives Shinra insight as to how our operations run, and it ties us together in the public eye, too. It was bad enough Xu offered up Quistis-"

"In the end, Quistis _chose_ to go, didn't she?" asked Rinoa.

Squall shook his head. "Xu knows how Quistis works. She'd do anything for her friends, and currently, all of us are still connected to Garden. Of course she'd volunteer- she wouldn't see any other choice."

"It's not just the contracts, though is it?"

Squall ran a hand through his hair, his gaze narrowing. "Shinra is developing a private security sect as well. He wants SeeD to train them."

"Xu's not going to agree to that, is she?"

"….I don't know. Xu thinks that eventually, Shinra will either try to acquire the Gardens or to overtake them."

"And?"

"I think she's right."

Something cold swept through Rinoa's chest. With the Gardens gone, she would be without her SeeD shield. Without the Gardens, the state of her would fall to men like Shinra….men like Hojo-

A hand on her cheek, and Squall's eyes looking concernedly into hers. Determination had replaced his worry- his bravery, as always, summoned by her distress. "No matter what, you know I'll protect you."

"Yes. I know that."

And that was the problem. He would protect her…no matter what- no matter who she became.

"Squall, I-"

Whatever she was about to say was abruptly cut off when Squall caught sight of Zack reaching to lift a giant jellyfish out of the water, the dogs barking wildly. Both parents darted towards the shore, and the result of Squall's speed was that only one of Zack's tiny hands had to sit in a glass of vinegar for the rest of the afternoon, his crying almost immediately cut off by a large chocolate ice cream cone bought at the local beach stand.

The interruption was just as well, Rinoa reflected later. Even she wasn't sure what she had been about to say.

…….

….

..

"Holy shit, woman. Maybe you should go and see Kadowaki," Seifer told Quistis, folding his arms as he stood in the doorway, watching as his girlfriend threw up for the seventh time that morning.

"I don't need to see a bloody doctor," muttered Quistis, letting her head slump onto her arm as she draped it across the toilet bowl. He always thought it was kind of cute that when she got really pissed or really tired, or both, as she was now, remnants of her Dolletian accent tended to slip out. With respect to her current state, he decided to avoid pointing that out.

The accent was a remnant of Quistis' past. After she had been adopted, Quistis had spent a few years in a highly dysfunctional household in Dollet before coming to Garden. Along with a few bad shards of memory, she had also brought pieces of the dialect with her.

"It'll pass," she muttered, wiping her arm across her mouth. "I just need to rest. It must've been the pancakes."

"Or the booze, last night," observed Seifer, yawning.

"Could be," she sighed. In truth, she had only had a single margarita with Selphie, not nearly enough to cause the waves of nausea that were currently coursing through her system. She decided not to mention it. She also decided not to mention that this particular flu had been going off and on for almost three days now, ever since she'd finally finished painting the dining room. What Seifer didn't know, she reasoned, need not concern him. Not yet, anyway. The whole thing was probably a latent complication of the mag-poisoning, which meant more saline infusions, more dialysis, and more lab tests run with Dr. Kadowaki, all of which she intended to put off for as long as possible.

"I can't believe you're leaving already," she muttered. "You've barely been here half a day."

Seifer had been packing for his next mission for the past half hour, although packing for Seifer consisted of throwing things at random into a duffle bag, then spending the next fifteen minutes cursing while trying to zipper it closed. Eventually, he'd sat on the thing, then tried to zip around his ass. It had half-worked: he still had a sock sticking out the side, but it was better than his usual sloppy work. Usually, he relied on Quistis to pack for him, but it was out of the question now, as Quistis had spent that time hunched over the toilet bowl, moaning and praying silently to Hyne (or whatever other gods came to mind) for some kind of relief and bemoaning the loss of her 4 blueberry pancakes, four strips of bacon, and two eggs over easy before they'd had time to digest. All the other guests had gone home, fortunately.

Seifer leaned on the doorjam and sighed. Minutes after the company had left, his fingers had been dancing again over the velvet box in his pocket, but he quickly withdrew the hand as she ran to the bathroom, her hand over her mouth. He'd planned on doing it before he left, but it looked like nature and unfortunate circumstance (constants in his life) had once again stuck a wrench in the gears. Getting down on one knee and giving her the ring while she was hunched over the toilet, vomiting up pancakes, was not his idea of a memorable or romantic gesture. Besides, Jesuas had only sold him the setting after his first payment. It would be much better for present her with the actual complete item, he reasoned- much more impressive and gallant.

Not all romantic bones in his body had been broken by the sorceress, after all. Just most of them.

He handed her a towel- she wiped at her mouth with it. "Where are you going this time, anyway?"

"Xu wanted me to wipe out another monster infestation outside of Esthar," he replied. "Should be about four days, at the most." That was a lie. He'd run into Leonhart on his way out of the bathroom and puberty king had offered him the job. He'd jumped at the chance, and Squall had seemed quite relieved when he agreed.

"Couldn't Brice or one of the others handle that?"

"I guess, but I'll be able to wrap it up quicker," he replied, not liking how easily these lies were coming, but telling himself it was for a good cause. He had lied to himself plenty over the years, but he had never lied to her, and it felt strange.

But it wasn't like he could tell her the truth, seeing as the other half of the truth was that the amount for the mission was a good chunk of change, and he'd need that if he wanted to get the stone for her ring anytime in the next century.

"I'm leaving in two days to assess the draw points with Selphie," said Quistis, not meeting his gaze. She looked thoroughly miserable.

"Hyne, how many times have you puked now? Sevente-" the rest of his sentence was interrupted as Quistis once again buried her head in the toilet, holding the sides of the bowl in a white-knuckle grip. He made a face as he watched her. The sound of it was starting to make his own stomach squirm.

He'd been watching her for what felt like forever, feeling sympathetic but otherwise utterly useless. What did a person do in this situation, anyway? Hold her head? Get some ice chips? No one had ever taken care of him when he was sick that he could remember, so he was fairly uncertain as to the exact protocol that was supposed to take place. Besides, it wasn't like he'd really had the opportunity before-normally Trepe was as resilient as a brick wall. It was disconcerting to see her this way, boneless and sweaty as she slumped against the white porcelain, utterly helpless.

"Well, hell woman, can I get you something? Water, or-"

"You can help me up," she muttered, holding out her hand.

He ignored the offered limb and scooped her into his arms, carrying her into the bedroom and smiling at her grumbles. The bed was still unmade from the morning, so he slid her between the sheets and pulled the covers up to her chin. "Are you sure you haven't been testing your own recipes again?"

Quistis rolled over and muttered something into her pillow that sounded ill-tempered.

Seifer smiled down at her, a smile that slipped as he checked the time. "Hey, I've gotta go, I'm sorry. I'll have Rajin look in on you, see if you need anything."

Quistis rolled over on her back, gazing at his retreating form. "Seifer..."

"Yeah?" His form blurred in the doorway, tall and dark save for the golden highlight of his hair against the lamp in the hall.

Her eyes were closing. "Nevermind..."

"What is it?"

By the time he reached the bedside, she had already fallen asleep.


	14. Letter 6

__

_Hello my dear friend!_

_Zack's just down for his nap, so I thought I'd take this rare moment of peace and tranquility to send you a letter. I never get tired of writing them- do you ever get tired of receiving them? _

_Thank you so much for sending that old home video that Selphie made of your roof repair- Zack especially loved the footage of 'Uncle Zell' falling through the roof- he made me replay it again and again and had a hysterical fit each time. (Don't tell Uncle Zell, though- I imagine his pride is still bruised enough already!) Zack has Squall's laugh (when I can get the old meanie to laugh, which is a rare feat these days)- I could listen to him laugh all day long._

_Tell 'Uncle Seifer' thank you for the fishing lure he sent along for Zack- Zack had to try it out right away, of course! I keep trying to tell him he's not going to catch much just off the shore, but he's determined to land the biggest 'shish' in the ocean. He still can't quite get the hang of 'fish'- it's very cute, and I wrote it down in his baby book. Just wait till he grows up and brings all his girlfriends home- I'll be waiting with pictures of his first smile, descriptions of his first word, and of course, pictures of his first bath! Aren't I a great mom?(He's going to kill me! Haha.) Anyway, Zack spent about three hours out there fishing today with the other children, determined to pull something in. Points for persistence, I guess, or stubbornness- wonder where he gets **that** from? (Don't say it.) So far, he's caught a tin can, a plastic bag, a size 12 boot, and a really angry jellyfish. He almost had a fit when I told him there was no way he could keep the thing- you can imagine the nightmare I had just getting the hook out of the nasty piece of mush. Adventures in motherhood, I guess! _

_When are you coming to visit next, my friend?! Zack's still talking about the now infamous 'Castle Zack' you made with its seashell windows and driftwood drawbridges – I really wish I'd gotten a picture before the tide came in. You two always have the best time when you're here! What say you take a little vacation and give your friend some much needed company (and sanity????) and rebuild Castle Zack?_

_Watching Selphie's home video made me very homesick for all of you- I know it's for the best, me being 'out of sight, out of mind' for now. But really, Quisty, I don't think anyone's forgotten that I'm here, especially not Shinra. I'm still trying to work on Squall to move our little beach house operation back to Balamb. Maybe we could be neighbors! _

_Edea sends her love. She occupies herself mostly with Celes and Daenen, who I'm happy to report are doing much better. I refuse to call them the Magitech- they're only children, after all. There's not much that can be done about the grafts or the scars, but they're still sleeping through the night now, which is a welcome break for all of us._

_You're so kind to ask about my writing! To answer your question, it's going very well- it's almost as if all the words are already inside my pen- they flow so effortlessly onto the paper. As to when you can read it- well, if it's any good, you may be able to do more than read it one of these days. Cryptic, I know, but what's life without a few surprises?_

_When can all of us get together, I wonder? However wonderful this peace is, and however long I hope it can last, I still find myself missing the old days a little, when we were all together, heading out on a new adventure. An adventure! Isn't it amazing how time can dull all the pain and mute the fear I felt and make our journey into an adventure instead of a mission? Silly, I suppose, to think of that time with any longing- and yet, I still miss my dear friends._

_I hope things are well with you and Seifer, and I hope to hear from you soon. Till then, I remain your faithful friend-_

_ Rinoa_

_p.s. I've enclosed Gast's latest publication on the partial translation of the Avalon Scrolls, if you hadn't already read it. I thought you might find it interesting! (I've circled some parts!)_


	15. Blue

Author's notes: Hello! Sorry about the wait, RL takes its toll. Thanks to all of you that are still reading! As a side note, this crossover thing is making my head hurt- time paradoxes especially- organizing this plot in my head is not going so well. As I've told my online buddies, I'm very tempted to just bang my head on the keyboard and label it the last chapter. We'll see what the muse says. It's very much a love/hate relationship with this stupid story. Thanks to my wonderful betas this time around, who double-checked my in-game content (as I'm pretty much running blind off internet references at this point, although I have played ffVii and watched advent children). And sissyhiyah, I have to say you were somewhat of an influence in the creation of Arsen Briyak as a kick-ass-take-names side character-your stories of kickassery inspired me! Thanks to all who read and reviewed the last chapter- I'm so glad you've come along for the ride.

I've joined NaNoWriMo this year as altol- feel free to add me as a writing buddy on there and watch me struggle to write original fiction.

Disclaimer: Arndt's thoughts on Quistis's neck are borrowed, remixed, and rearranged from Thomas Harris. Nothing else is mine, except for Serabin, I suppose, but I'm willing to rent him out by the hour.

_……._

_Behind closed doors your words ring hollow  
What you said they'd be  
What behavior? Who are you- but I like it  
Now I'm done with nothing new,_

_Sometimes green, sometimes blue  
And I'm guilty….  
And you're guilty too_

_-Gravity Kills, Guilty_

….

..

The Quad was warm and bright with sunshine, and students not in classes milled around the entrance, reading books and chatting with classmates.

Instructor Arsen Briyak was in his late twenties, and generally well-liked among the students. He was in excellent shape, fair, and a recreational sadist, which made him an excellent instructor in exploiting enemy weaknesses because he so naturally enjoyed pain in normal settings. He had suffered a piece of shrapnel to the eye in a reconnaissance mission gone wrong four years ago, and aside from the eye patch he was forced to wear to put the students at ease, he was now mostly confined to the realm of teaching, an assignment he enjoyed more than he thought he would. Maybe it was the pain and agony of exams.

"Good afternoon and welcome to Combat 305: Combat Strategy and Execution. We're out here in the Quad today because one of the support walls in Gym A is being repaired, due to the stupidity of one J.C. who thought it'd be fun to junction a GF unsupervised. As you all probably know, said JC is being shipped home in a ziplock bag."

Uncomfortable murmurs and a few inappropriate laughs. Briyak had the urge to laugh himself, but he stifled it: after nearly killing a student while showing the moron the correct way to apply a pressure point drop, he had to watch his P's and Q's and not do any more hands-on demonstrations for awhile. One of Briyak's favorite methods of teaching was to instruct by trauma, letting his students learn by nearly blowing themselves up. He found the lessons stuck better in that format. Unfortunately, that method usually meant that some of them succeeded- something Kramer didn't much appreciate on the records.

"As I've had all of you before in 105, I'm not going to waste my time and yours going over the rules. Let me simplify the syllabus for 305 into something uncomplicated you can all appreciate- you all show up, you all participate, you all survive, you all pass. You fuck around, you fuck up, and you're out. You've all enjoyed a two-week respite after your last semester exams, courtesy of our generous headmaster, and as a result you're all no doubt rusty as shit."

The students grinned sheepishly among themselves. Not only were most of them a little rusty- most of them were also hung over as hell.

Instructor Briyak cool blue gaze swept over the crowd of students in front of them. It was a pretty good class, a pretty even balance of brain and brawn. There was Gavin Arndt, a bit of a pompous ass but reasonably skilled with bolt magic, there was Leila Greenes, overconfident and not a particularly strong caster but currently being watched for a possible reconnaissance op in the future, and there, among Brit and Graily, who looked as if they'd hijacked a case of vodka between them and drunk it directly before class, was Quistis Trepe, one of the only students in the crowd whose eyes were neither bloodshot nor half-lidded, her cool blue gaze rapt and ready.. Briyak was willing to bet that unlike the rest of her fellow classmates, Quistis had spent the last two weeks holed up in the Training Center, sharpening her skills. The kid was too dedicated for her own good. Two years younger than most of the other students, Quistis had taken Combat 205 during the Spring Interim and passed with flying colors. Trepe was talented, sure, but Brayak wasn't sure that the higher ups were doing her any favors by pushing her forward. The girl was still damned young even by SeeD standards, and she often met with resistance and jealousy in the older students, particularly those like Gavin Arndt, who was at the top of the class himself and didn't appreciate the competition from a little girl. Arsen knew differently- no one with eyes like an arctic wolf could be considered a little girl, not even by ruthless SeeD standards.

"Today, we're going to be splitting off and sparring in pairs, and I'm going to be making notes of your few strengths and your many weaknesses, all of which we'll be studying over the next few weeks. But first, a demonstration. I want to see how rusty you've all gotten during the break. Let's have you, Arndt, and you, Quistis, out here, and bring your weapons.

_Fuck the class rivalry_, thought Briyak, _let's let them have it out and be done with it. Either Arndt'll learn some humility, or Trepe'll learn her place in the class pecking order._

The crowd parted, and formed a wide circle as the two students stepped out from the group.

"I want level two Magic and skin-sticks only. KO's by mag only." A low murmur went up, and Quistis and Arndt exchanged surprised looks. Combat 305 was going to be markedly different from 205 with Instructor Green: in 205 they'd focused mainly on support magic, and had not been allowed to mark their partners with their weapons. Skin-sticks was a slang term used by the instructors to refer to light epidermal marking in combat- nicks and shallow cuts that could easily be healed on-site and were non-life threatening in nature.

"That's right," said Briyak, "It's about damned time you got a taste of real combat- you're finally going to start being marked for your mistakes. And if you think I'm going to be standing by with a healing drought to ease your scrapes like Instructor Green, think again. You fuck up, you can bleed through the rest of the lesson and limp yourself down to Kadowaki's office to get patched up between classes." Briyak was a firm believer in pain as both teacher and motivator.

Gavin met Quistis' gaze from across the Quad- he smirked, holding his staff behind his head and stretching his arm muscles along the weapon's length. Finally, Trepe was about to get a firsthand lesson in why women shouldn't be in SeeD. Trepe was good eye candy, sure, but he'd never understood the reasoning behind women in the military. Mixing snatch and artillery was never a good idea, in his opinion- women didn't have the stomach for the bloody work, and it was distracting to have them on missions.

Gavin's opinion was hardly a secret- he'd expressed it on several occasions, all of on which Trepe had loudly disagreed. He was glad it was _her_ in front of him, now- humiliating her would be all the sweeter, and then he could make her eat her words, preferably with a side of angry surrender later in his dorm room. He never met someone more in need of a good grudge-fucking than the resident Ice Queen.

Gavin's hatred of Quistis, as fierce and degrading as it expressed itself, was shallow and baseless in nature, and rose out of a very real threat to his ego rather than any real wrong she had done him. Arndt was a predator by nature- it was in his nature to simultaneously appreciate Trepe's slender neck and look for her jugular.

Quistis uncoiled her whip and snapped it once, her expression unreadable as she walked forward.

"No books to help you out here, Trepe," said Arndt, low enough for only her to hear. "Only you and your little piece of knitting yarn. Want me to make it quick?"

Instead of getting pissed, as he'd hoped, the young woman simply smiled. "Yes, thank you, Arndt. That's very kind of you."

If Briyak noticed the exchange, he ignored it. "I'll give you both five minutes. I want to see good posture, good follow-through with regard to the critical zones, and special attention to control in casting. Go."

Arndt lost no time in attacking, his bladed bow staff whirring through the air and coming within inches of Quistis' left ear, catching a small chunk of hair. Golden threads fluttered to the ground, caught in the draft the two bodies made as they darted. Quistis swung her weight to the side as Arndt lunged- there was no time to wind up the whip for a counter attack this close, but she swung hard with her leg at her opponent's knee, knocking Arndt off balance and landing him in a heap on the ground in front of her.

No sooner had he landed then a sting traveled the length of his arm. He looked up, realizing that Trepe had deflected his move and counter-attacked with the whip almost simultaneously as she swung back. Damnit, the bookworm had been practicing over break.

Quistis took a step back, winding the whip between her hands and waiting for the next attack. She cocked her head at him slightly, as if to say,_ I thought you were going to make this quick?_

Snickers rose up from the crowd, and Arndt's face burned. He'd be damned if he'd let some under-aged bitch make him look like an idiot in front of his classmates.

Briyak rolled his eyes. "Arndt, cover your side when you lead in, and get your ass up. Trepe, quit fucking around. That was a perfect spot for a KO- remember your follow-through."

Expression no longer taunting, Arndt sprang to his feet, a fire spell burning in his palm as he raised his hand to throw the flame into her face. But Quistis was raising her hand, too, and in the span it took him to mutter the spell, he heard the roar of his own fire as it was blown back at him- the flame flashing across his face in one painful gust. And here came the crack of that whip again- blinding pain on his cheek and then the warm gush of blood wet on his face. He threw another bolt spell at her face- she flicked her whip up, the silver barb catching the bulk of the forks as they arched down.

Quistis was standing back, her small smile still in place. She was making no move, simply holding the whip at the ready.

Those pretty blue eyes were now looking down at him.

_The bitch was looking_ **down at him-**

Instructor Briyak knew what Arndt was going to cast before any of them did- he could see the dark sheen in the young man's eyes, the dark vapor in his hand as he put his hand out to Trepe, his lips curled in a hateful sneer, the words coming faster than his breath, faster than he could think-

"ARNDT YOU BLOODY IDIOT, I SAID LEVEL 2 SPELLS ONLY, **WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING**-"

Gasps rose among the students as they, too, realized what Arndt was doing. Quistis, however, stood her ground, her calm mask unwavering.

"_Death_!" snarled Arndt, swinging his staff towards Quistis' face as he cast, advancing, and for an instant, everyone's vision went dark as the spell took effect. Briyak knew instantly that Arndt had botched the spell- the cloud was diffused and thick, not at all the potent shroud that Death was supposed to be. Screams punctuated the terrible silence, but Briyak could only wait for the cloud to clear.

Death was higher magic, and higher magic, cast wrong and cast angry could kill the enemy and the caster both. Briyak swore that as soon as the dust cleared _he was going to kill the little shit if he wasn't already dead-_

The dark was dissipating, and as Briyak's vision returned to him, he was floored at the sight before him. Arndt was standing as if frozen, his staff hovering only inches away from Trepe's neck. Following the shaft, Briyak could see the reason for it- Quistis gripped the blade of his weapon in her fist. Blood dribbled down her arm, her eyes as dark as the smoke in the air as she stared blankly into Arndt's wide-eyed gaze. She did not move. Her head was cocked to the side like a dog listening for a far-off noise.

The crowd had gone completely silent.

And then Quistis blinked.

Seeming to come back to herself, she released the staff blade and all at once Arndt collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been sliced, his weapon clattering beside him. Quistis stared at the bloody palm of her hand for a moment, then closed it, the color slowly returning to her eyes.

"What the **fuck** was that?" bellowed Briyak, thundering forward.

Quistis seemed unphased. "It was his spell, sir, I just rebounded it back at him."

"Holy shit, he's dead," muttered a student.

"Cool," whispered another.

"No sir, he's only unconscious," said Quistis quickly. "I didn't use the full force of the spell, just enough to knock him out."

Briyak felt for a pulse in the idiot's neck. Sure enough, his heart pumped through his throat, strong and solid.

Hushed murmurs were traveling through the crowd. Other students who had apparently come to watch were either staring at Quistis or laughing at the crumpled figure Arndt presented. Briyak quickly realized he was one of the few staring at Quistis and got to his feet, turning on the crowd. "Those of you in Combat 305, get in pairs and start squaring off, and I'd better not see any of this bullshit! For those of you not in Combat 305, bugger off!"

Briyak's temper was legendary- the crowd scampered back to their original places and activities and his students hurried to pair off. "Shit," muttered the Instructor, running a hand over his face. There was going to be a massive amount of paperwork for this incident, not to mention dragging this imbecile down to Kadowaki's office with another explanation as to why one of his students was unconscious….

"Sir?"

Instructor Briyak's head snapped up. He had forgotten Quistis was there.

"Sir, am I in trouble?" she was holding her bloody hand behind her back, looking worried for the first time all lesson.

Instructor Briyak sighed. "Trepe, what have I told you about taunting your enemies? It makes them dangerous. You learned that way back in 105."

The young woman bowed her head. "With all due respect, simply beating Gavin was tantamount to taunting him," replied Quistis, her eyes cast down at the ground. "Gavin's hubris made escalation inevitable."

Briyak fought a smile. Smart _and_ a smart mouth- he knew there was a reason he'd liked Trepe since 105. "Get down to the medical ward and get your hand stitched up, Trepe."

"But sir, you said-"

"I _know_ what I said, now get down there and get stitched up before I make you run laps instead. And don't bother coming back to class- your sparring partner's out cold anyway. I want a two page report on the importance of follow-through in initial attacks, including both physical and psychological advantages of first strike. I want at least one citation on Lockmar- he's got some excellent stuff on critical zones. The whole thing on my desk tomorrow at 1100 hours. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." A pause. "Ummm…should I bring Arndt with me?"

"No. Leave him here. He's…atoning."

"Yes sir." Unable to hide her small smile, Quistis turned and started for the infirmary. Briyak smiled after her and shook his head.

The rest of the class period passed thankfully without further insult or injury, and when Briyak dismissed them, they were already chattering excitedly about the ass-handing of the century. The Instructor almost felt sorry for the Gavin Arndt when he woke up. Almost. Arndt was going to be running laps for the rest of his natural life, and Arndt was going to personally recommend him for solo missions. Any soldier who turned on their comrade, no matter the reason, was dangerous and unreliable. Briyak made a mental note to put 'biter' in Arndt's file, a shorthand slang for instructors that basically meant 'does not play well with others'.

Briyak wondered if he should note it in Trepe's file, too.

Briyak was still trying to sling the still-unconscious student's arm around his neck when he heard another voice behind him. The man's goopy muscles made the maneuver difficult, and even someone as strong as Arsen was struggling with the dead weight.

"Do you need some help with that, Arsen?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks Glyphias," Briyak replied, turning to regard the other instructor. "This one's a little limp."

Arsen and Serabin had been classmates in their early JC years. Instructor Glyphias was a regular Spartan in training and a bit of a stoic otherwise, but Briyak liked the other man well enough. "Had a bit of excitement today in 305."

"So I saw," replied Glyphias, hefting up the other half of the student's limp body. "That was our resident blue mage, wasn't it? Miss Trepe?"

"Yeah, that's her. Knew about the ability from her file, but it's different seeing it in person, yeah?"

Serabin smiled. "Quite impressive, yes. And quite unfortunate for Mr. Arndt."

"I'd say he had it coming," replied Arsen, adjusting his hold on his student's limp limb as he steered the unconscious corpse through traffic. "Wouldn't you?"

Glyphias chuckled. "Probably."

Students parted in the hallway around the two instructors and the unconscious student. Given the nature of their dangerous training, knocked out or injured classmates were not an uncommon occurrence. Once the student was deposited in Kadowaki's bemused care, the two Instructors headed back to the Quad.

"Thanks for the help," said Arsen, checking his watch.

"Not a problem. You can return the favor the next time I take the JC class on a tour of the Training Center."

"Great, yeah, no problem. Good for the laughs, that, specially with the T-Rexaurs." Arsen paused. "Do you understand that whole thing anyway? The Blue Mage thing? Never really got it, not even when they were talking about it last year in the advanced theory talk with that guest lecturer Odine guy."

Honestly, the history portion of paramagic had been the only thing of interest to Arsen. He wasn't really concerned with how the whole process of magic worked, so long as he could fry people with it. Glyphias, however, looked as if he'd paid attention to the whole thing.

"My understanding is limited to those texts that have documented the abilities and the history of the craft," replied Serabin. "I know next to nothing about the practical theory."

"What did you read, then? I'd never heard of one at all before the girl."

"That Blue Mages throughout history are extremely rare. The ability to learn a spell by experience- some call it an ability to read the essence of magic itself by touch, rather like the blind read brail."

"So you, I mean anyone _can_ learn it?"

"By studying, one can fashion a kind of crude imitation of the craft- gross approximations of the magic by study. To my knowledge, Cadet Trepe discovered the natural ability early, then pushed herself to hone it."

Arsen glanced at Serabin. "You've studied her profile, then?"

"Partially. Miss Trepe's progress is of great interest to Cid Kramer. She was one of the children at the orphanage that he and Mrs. Kramer ran, years ago. Word has it she's being watched for a possible Instructorship position down the line."

Arsen shook his head. He remembered the blankness of the girl's gaze, the way she had curled her bloody palm and held it to her chest as if she had snatched something out of thin air. "The look on her face when she was holding Arnd't blade in her bare hand…it was like….nothing. It was completely empty. You should've seen it."

"I did," replied Serabin, then paused. "Hundreds of years ago, there was a civilization that kept a crude book of magic, a recording of their worship and use of the craft. In the ancient text, the Blue Mage is described as 'the unhealing wound' or, translated another way 'the ever-hunger'. The magic was said to create holes in the person- gaps for the magic to live. It was a discipline, a lifelong dedication- keeping a part of yourself empty and incomplete and forever wanting in the pursuit of something greater than yourself."

Holes? Constant hungers? _Hell_. That was a bit much, even for Arsen. "But who'd choose to _develop_ something like that?" asked Arsen, frowning.

"Someone with wounds and gaps enough already to make one more inconsequential, I'd imagine," replied Serabin grimly, shrugging.

….

……..

….

"Wow, Quisty, what'd you have for breakfast?" Selphie, watched, amazed, as her friend once again heaved into a patch of tall grass.

The two women, having landed successfully (meaning Selphie had kept the landing gear intact this time, and Quistis hadn't had to pick her stomach out of her shoes), the two women immediately set out to the draw point sites in the area, assessing current concentrations.

Xu had sent them on a two day field trip. The first day, Quistis and Selphie would do an assessment of all the local Draw Points. The second day, Selphie would meet to finalize contracts for the rights to use, and Quistis, while attending another bloodletting, would take a field trip to see the new extraction sites.

Although Shinra was rapidly placing extraction sites at each of the known Mako-draw points globally, there were a few untapped resources left, and it was those Xu most wanted analyzed. She had sent small recon teams around Gaia, and had saved the sites closest to Shinra for last, as she would have to acquire permission to be on the premises.

The procedure was fairly routine for Selphie, who had done most of the other site analysis: Selphie would draw a couple of spells from the site and assess their potency relative to her other data. Quistis stood as record keeper, since she was on doctor's orders not to handle anything above a weak mag-saline solution. Things were going swimmingly, and the two chatted amicably as they worked, making plans to for a shopping trip on the way back and talking about what they wanted to do for dinner.

At least, that had been the procedure...until Quistis had started throwing up.

One minute, she had been calmly calculating the estimated radius of the draw point area, and the next, she was standing with her hands on her knees, heaving up into a patch of tall grass.

Selphie leaned over, holding Quistis' clipboard out of harm's way. "Hey, that kinda looks like French Toast....oh, I love French Toast! We used to have French Toast Fridays at Trabia Garden! Butter, maple syrup, a big sweet pile of powdered sugar on top..."

Quistis threw her friend a dirty look before doubling over once more, her complexion an unhealthy pale shade of green.

Selphie leaned over, patting Quistis on the back in what she must have thought was a helpful manner. Really, the jarring raps between her shoulder blades were making Quistis feel as if her brain were about to shake loose and drop out her open mouth. "You must have the flu or something! I've never seen anybody throw up THAT much all at once! Wow! You probably just set, like, a world record or something!"

"It's just...your damned flying," muttered her friend, wiping her mouth on her sleeve and holding her head. She had thrown up so many times, and in such rapid succession, that her throbbing head felt about to burst. "I'm still….recovering...from your Hyne-damned flying."

Selphie grinned, thinking that living with Seifer was definitely having an adverse effect on her friend's vocabulary.

"….feel like I threw up my brains…." Muttered her friend, squeezing her eyes shut as she held her head in her hands.

"Quisty, you're so funny! Like that big brain of yours would fit out of your mouth! Feel better now?" she asked, gazing concernedly into her friend's miserable eyes.

Quistis nodded, straightening up and holding out her hand for the clipboard. "I'm...fine. Let's just get these readings over with. I want to lie down."

…….

….

…

…

The Centra ruins were as dry and desolate as Rinoa remembered them, and she was glad that she had dressed for the occasion. She wore a light shroud around her shoulders and red scarf had been tied over her mouth and nose to keep out the sand. She had slung a day pack around her shoulder: in it she carried a bottle of water, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, and a notebook. Zack was happily spending a day with 'Gramma Edea' and Squall was in Balamb pouring over the Shinra contracts with Xu, blissfully unaware of her little outing.

She was pleasantly tired from her adventure- being pregnant made climbing extremely awkward, but Rinoa had been active through her last pregnancy and this one was no exception. She now sat beneath the archway at the base and ate her lunch, munching on her apple beneath the scarf as she thumbed through her sketches. She was a fair sketcher, though the graphite shadings did not quite do the colorful ruins justice. The light and the tarnished copper set amid the cold stone of the statues was both beautiful and heartbreaking- it was the echo of a desperate and now long-dead people, victims of the first lunar cry. The romantic in her whispered that if she listened carefully, she could hear their echoes on the wind. The boring, practical side of her told her that the only thing that remained of the Centra people was now the bones and dust and sand that swirled around in the wind and put grit in her sandwich.

It was thrilling to be out on her own little adventure, all by herself. It wasn't as if she was a stranger to voyages, but understandably, Squall was very reluctant in letting her alone, despite her assurances that she could protect herself. Although she appreciated his concerns, sometimes the beach house, the miniature world they had constructed for her to play wife and mother and house in, sometimes it felt very much like a cage. What was the point of having wings, after all, if you were never meant to use them?

At any rate, Squall thought she was at the sea cottage playing house, and Matron thought she was out for a day of shopping, little lies that hurt no one and left her room to breathe.

Having finished her lunch, she opened her sketch pad to a new page and set about a new drawing. She was shading the beautiful statue carved into center of the base- she put her thumb to a stone thigh, creating a realistic shade along the limb.

Though Rinoa strove for normalcy in life, being a Sorceress had undeniably changed her. There was something visceral about the curse, something base- an unnamable force in her now that defied logic and encouraged her to do so as well. She often experienced visceral reactions to things through her senses, basic reactions as simple as revulsion or curiosity, with no real idea of their origins. She had long ago ceased questioning the logic of her source, however, but instead indulged the sensory whimsies- and they were never wrong. Now was such a time.

Something did not sit well with Rinoa about the Centra ruins- something empty about the way the tower stretched up into the sky. She felt, rather than saw, that the ruins went much deeper into the earth, that the source of them lay beneath her feet. But how to get there?

Perhaps Gast would know- per his publications, she suspected Gast spent every second of available time camped out at the ruins. And yet, there was no documentation in his research- at least, not his public research. Rinoa found Dr. Gast's research fascinating. From what little she understood of it. The good doctor was attempting to prove that a culture he called the 'Cetra', or 'Those of the Planet', were in fact tied to or the same as the Centra civilization, the name a simple error in translation. He was trying to amass a specific lineage using genetic sequencing and archeological findings. These people, claimed Gast, had been the first users of para magic and had made various documentation with regard to its use that was ground-breaking even in the present. The old texts, called the 'Chronicles of Avalon' documented the use and worship of magic in ancient culture. In the chronicles, the writers called magic the 'voice of the planet'- the very heart and essence of life. Rinoa was less interested in its religious implications- she was more interested in Gast's claim that the Cetra had utilized and harnessed very old, now unheard of forms of magic- magic that had died with the people themselves.

The ruins themselves were evidence of that. Red and blue wires ran like veins through the spindly tower, and some of the apparatus were powered by the ghosts of paramagic. These people had understood the lifeblood of the planet- what else had they understood?

The place had the ghosts of magic running through it as surely as it had the echo of desperation in it, a hopeless taint that covered the walls as surely as blood spatter. Walking through the rooms, she could see that the place still maintained its connection to the core power source- but where was that source located?

The energy of the place hummed beneath her feet- she could feel her awareness of it prickle against her feet, her hands, her lips. The center was beneath her, of that she was certain. But how to reach it?

_Simple. Follow the magic._

For someone like Rinoa, in whom magic ran like a kind of second lifeblood, following the trace of magic was as easy as extending any one of her five senses.

Packing up her lunch and her sketchbook, she slung the pack around her shoulders again, and, walking at a leisurely pace, ran her fingers along the walls, following where the echoes led her.

…………..

………

…..

…

Serabin emerged from the Shinra basement pulling down his shirtsleeves, buttoning his cuffs, and fighting an ever-present urge to vomit. He had just attended his very last immersion session with Hojo, and could not say he was particularly disappointed about it. Lucretia was pleasant-enough company when she was in charge, but he would not miss Hojo's penetrating stare or the long hours spent submerged in a solution that made his skin feel as if it were on fire. Lately, towards the end of the session in the tank, Serabin had started to develop an odd ringing sensation in his ears, as if a nest of hornets were buzzing in his grey matter. He would be glad to be rid of the feeling. Even now, he was looking forward to flying back home, taking half a bottle of aspirin and a few Demerol with half a bottle of pinot noir, and sleeping for at least twelve hours.

Shaking out the static in his casting arm, he showed his clearance key card to the guard at the elevator and waited patiently as the floors flew past him. It was amazing how quickly the building had gone up. What once was a spindly steel skeleton was now a towering structure teeming with personnel, ringing phones, and security devices. Serabin found that he liked Shinra Corp as an emerging giant about as much as he had when it was a climbing science lab- which was to say, not at all.

President Shinra's office was appropriately on the topmost floor, 70 stories up. A large silver desk took up most of the pace in the room, and large windows interspaced amount the pillars showed night in every direction. Below, the slowly expanding city twinkled like distant grains of sand. Serabin could see no stars- the lights of the emerging industry blotted them all out. To Serabin, it was a bleak view...but the president seemed to like it well enough. Yet another thing of many that made them different.

Serabin found himself often missing the view from the orphanage all those years ago, the shack on the outskirts of Dollet with its clapboard walls and the never-ending spread of stars outside his bedroom window. The world had seemed endless then, magical, not something that could be held down and chained by greed.

Shinra was standing at the window, his generous frame garbed in a rich red velvet smoking jacket, his hands laced behind his back. Absently, Serabin wondered when and where he slept.

Shinra's beady black eyes met his in the window's reflection. "Hojo informs me that, barring your participation in our public demonstrations next month, your contractual obligations to us have ended."

"He's correct."

"Hojo also says that your trials have ended...successfully. Would he also be correct on that account?"

"He would."

"Ah, excellent, excellent! In that case, might I ask for a small demonstration?" Shinra turned from the window, meeting Serabin's eyes for the first time. It was interesting- while Hojo's sharp gaze made Serabin feel as if he were being dissected, Shinra's heavy gaze made him feel as if he were being suffocated. He didn't know which he preferred less.

Serabin's eyes narrowed as he heard Shinra's request. He wanted to reply that he was not a dancing puppet, and if Shinra wanted a demonstration of what the trials produced, he could squeeze his bulbous ass into the tank himself. But the good President was right- his contractual obligation to the company had not yet ended. The man was smart to preface the conversation with that small reminder.

"Yes, of course," replied Serabin, rolling up his sleeve.

_The fire materia he had stocked? _

_No, let the president feel a little _**sting**_. _

A small flick of Serabin's wrist, and the room lit up like a floodlight. Crackling forks of lightning sparked to the ceiling, nearly blinding in their intensity, a few of the bolts missing Shinra by mere inches as they plunged into the floor.

Serabin closed his fist, and the room once again returned to its normal brightness and silence. He was still getting used to the materia- it generated much faster than it had when he had drawn its raw form, and with an intensity that far surpassed the unprocessed kind.

Shinra's bushy eyebrows had inched into his hairline, but he showed no other signs of the fear Serabin had been hoping for, just the hunger and greed he was used to seeing on the President's face. "Impressive, thank you. I had heard about your presidential nomination for Esthar. You're really accepting?"

"Why wouldn't I?" In truth, Serabin hadn't yet decided, but he didn't particularly want Shinra knowing his next moves, whatever they were.

The President chuckled. "Oh, I don't know, I suppose I was under the impression that you wanted to do some good in the world."

Serabin returned his sleeve to its former position, buttoning the cuff and shaking down his jacket. "And is that what your company does? Goodwill towards the people under the clever guise of war profiteering?"

Far from being offended, Shinra laughed. Serabin supposed that when you were as rich and powerful as Shinra was, it was difficult to be insulted. "Son, you're too smart to be that naive. You're still loyal to Garden, to your friends, and I understand all that, but I'm afraid your loyalty is misplaced. You and I both know that Garden's on its way out. I'm offering you a chance to be a part of the future, to train the new and upcoming keepers of peace and order. That doesn't appeal to you?"

Serabin lifted a shoulder in response. "You might say I'm weary of exchanging one power for another, especially one that has less legal tethers and far more pervasive financial influence over political matters."

"Ah, then why not be at the reigns of such a beast, and direct it according to those morals you're so fond of? You, out of everyone, I think, would be best to control it. Shinra is able to offer an impressive financial incentive-"

"And I'd have hoped you would have researched me enough to know by now that gil is no incentive to me." replied Serabin coldly, "And that I do not care to shackle myself to the helm of an institution that subscribes to profit as if it were a moral aspiration."

At this, Shinra positively roared. "And that's why it has to be you, my boy! Just think of the manner of minds such incentives would attract! The greedy, the power-hungry, the foolish and the gluttonous- would these be the men you would want to see at the forefront of our world's greatest new military progression?"

"I'll think about your offer, Shinra." replied Serabin cooly, his expression unreadable.

"Excellent." The president turned back to the window, once again lacing his hands behind his broad back, which Serabin correctly interpreted as a dismissal.

Serabin hesitated at the exit. "Miss Trepe is here today, is she not?"

"Ah, Quistis Trepe. Like yourself, quite the jewel in our military sect down in the Shinra Science Division. I'm afraid you just missed her, however. She's assessing the local Mako points with a Miss Tilmitt today, the last I heard, although they may be back at their lodgings by now."

"You're very well-informed of your operations, even from way up here."

Shinra's smile grew, but it was no longer in the realm of kind. "We keep a constant eye on things important to the progress of our company, especially things so important to our progress as Miss Trepe."

Serabin's smile grew to match the President's, lighting his eyes in a strange, unearthly glow. Shinra noted that while the color of the young man's eyes was returning its normal green, its color had deepened, sharpening the gaze to an almost predatory point.

"I'm happy to hear that it's a constant consideration," replied Serabin. "I'd hate to think of what might happen if the welfare of someone as important as Miss Trepe slipped through the cracks. Good night, Shinra."

The young man gave him a brief bow, then left.

After the door had closed, Shinra looked back out at the ant-sized specks of the developing city below, letting his thoughts run unbidden through his mind. He had not missed the cold flash of defiance in Serabin's gaze when he asked for a demonstration, nor had he missed the protective flare in his gaze when he mentioned Quistis Trepe. Shinra was a man that understood people- their desires, their motivations, and most of all, their weaknesses. It was his business to understand, and his skill in reading, controlling, and diverting the motivations of others was what had led to his early and sustained success. Having observed Serabin since the Third Sorceress War, Shinra believed that he understood several very important things about the man.

One, despite his upbringing and intelligence, Serabin was somewhat of an idealist when it came to matters of war and business- he thought that the same honor and principles should apply to each, and they simply didn't.

Two, Serabin was a man that both desired power and despised it. He craved power for himself, or he would not have gone through the long, painful hours of Mako immersion and put up with the wheedling of Hojo, whom the young man openly detested. However, Serabin also hated to see power abused, and did not much care for Shinra, Inc- he certainly didn't care for Shinra himself.

Lastly, Mr. Glyphias had a blind spot and a protective streak a mile wide when it came to one Quistis Trepe. Shinra filed away that particular information in case it came in handy some day.

Shinra had learned long ago the age-old strategy of keeping one's friends close and one's enemies closer, and had found it extremely useful.

As things stood now, Shinra wanted Glyphias as close as possible.

.......

….

…

…

Serabin left Shinra headquarters with a bitter taste in his mouth, one that had nothing to do with the slightly salty mako solution that took days to properly wash off his skin.

Shinra was a pompous, greedy bastard, but he was not stupid. His offer of leading Shinra's rapidly developing security force had nothing to do with Serabin's merit as an individual and everything to do with Shinra's desire to keep a constant surveillance on his activities. Serabin wondered at the wisdom of tying himself to such an institution, but there was little choice. It came down to a question of taming the beast or slaying it, he supposed, and Shinra was growing too quickly for even the Gardens to oppose. And then there was the question of Quistis. What would Shinra do with her, once they had finished with her? Furthermore, would they ever **be** finished, or was she to be kept as a lab rat, poked at prodded for the good of Garden, which was by rights and reason now a vulnerable and possibly dying institution?

Serabin had immediately understood Shinra's reason for leasing the land rights to Garden. It was not in the interest of fair trade- it was because Shinra planned to acquire the Gardens as eventual outlets of the Shinra Supervision and Security branches. When Garden was gone, what would become of the heroes? What would become of Rinoa, whose safety would be then secured only by the protective flanks of her friends and not the steel walls and high ceilings of the flying fortress?

Serabin's helicopter loomed in the distance, and he turned back for a moment to gaze with narrowed eyes at the tall, towering structure of Shinra Headquarters. Was Garden truly doomed, and with it, the Liberi Fatali?

_Only time would tell- for all of them._

…….

….

..

Selphie Tilmitt was an expert hotel magpie. She could strip a fancy hotel room of all its french-milled soaps, 400 thread count pillowcases and instant coffee packets faster than a black widow on a date. She was in the middle of stuffing the hand towels into her bag when she decided to duck into the bathroom and check on her friend.

"Quistis, are you going to take these soaps? 'Cause if not...." Selphie walked into the bathroom, stopping as she saw her friend once again hunched over the toilet, her forehead resting against the cool porcelain. Her eyes were half-closed, and her face the color of a bleached rag.

"Sick again?" Selphie's brow furrowed. "You know, Quisty, I hate to say this...but do you think it could be....?"

Though the vomit-addled fog of her brain, Quistis saw the direction in which Selphie's thoughts were headed, and gave a rueful laugh as she intercepted them before they could become the wild intangible spinnings Selphie was famous for. "What you're thinking is medically impossible," she muttered down into the bowl, her words muffled as she hit the flush handle.

"But, you're getting sick in the mornings-"

"And the evenings, and the mid-afternoons, and sometimes in the middle of the night," replied Quistis. "I'm just _sick_, Selphie, that's all." She sighed into the toilet bowl, half expecting to hear the echo of her poor stomach.

Selphie raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think you should check, just to-"

"No. Now help me up. I think I'm done throwing up for the moment." Her friend helped her to her feet, giving her a hug as she swayed. Quistis winced at the contact, but patted Selphie's back as she pulled away.

"I think I'm going to lay down for awhile, okay Selphie? You go get breakfast, and I'm going to leave to see the on-site extractors while you're at the meeting. I should be back at around 10 o'clock tonight." Instead of showing her the local extraction sites, Hojo had apparently arranged personal transportation to take her to Nibel, their largest current site and the area which was to be their grand opening for their energy program. Quistis was uneasy about the 10 hour commute, but her stomach seemed to have settled a little since her last purge. Besides, there were always airsick bags.

Selphie patted her friend's shoulder. "Are you sure I can't get you something? Orange juice, cereal, maybe some eggs benedict on toast, or hey! I saw this waffle iron downstairs, sort of a do-it-yourself thing by the orange juice and the coffee. I could make you a big strawberry waffle with a big dollop of whipped cream-"

Her friend's pretty complexion paled, then turned a mottled green as she once again ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

"Guess not," sighed Selphie, walking back to raid the mini bar.

….

……

Up, up, and up, and Rinoa found herself invigorated rather than exhausted by the long climb. In the main room now, the tall windows casting a dusty light along the circular room, illuminating the intimidating throne. Many wires here like veins running to the center of the room below the stone chair, the stone chair that had sat a burdened king to a dying people. Traces of a guardian force here, the dark and solid signature of Odin- Odin, long dispatched by Hyperion's steel.

A veritable house of ghosts.

The magic was strong in this room- it buzzed against her palm as she ran her hand along the cold mineral skin of the throne.

_Here_.

Here, thrumming light-a heartbeat under her hand.

She could not move the throne physically, but a small flick of her wrist, and the stone chair flew like a paper plane across the room, shattering into stone splinters against the opposite wall. And beneath it-

Rinoa smiled. A stone staircase, winding down into darkness.

_Yes. _

**_Here_**_._

…

…

..

It was a 7 hour ride by Shinra's sleek helicopter to the Mt. Nibel site, and an additional 1 hour drive through sand and sun by jeep. Quistis' escort was the same one that had first picked her up at Shinra's launch pad- a polite, handsome young man with dark hair. Like the others, he was wearing a sharp blue suit with the Shinra logo emblazoned on the breast pocket.

Her escort had kindly invited Quistis up into the copilot's chair and outfitted her with her own headset. Initially, she had gripped her economy-sized garbage bag in her lap, but the nausea seemed to have left her alone for the time being, leaving her free to enjoy the ride.

Her young escort occasionally pointed out things of interest below, and Quistis found herself enjoying the view. It was very different from flying in the Ragnarok, which, while instilling an appreciation in Quistis for higher speeds, did not provide for much scenery when they were in a hurry. Relaxed, she had stared for hours at the glittering blue ocean, occasionally nodding off against the window pane.

A hand gently brushed her shoulder and she came awake, blinking as the inside of the helicopter came into view. "Miss Trepe. We're preparing to land."

The landscape around Mt. Nibel was far from welcoming- the barren land was primarily comprised of dark cloud and craggy pale cliffs. The sunlight peeked through the cloud cover in intermittent bursts, covering the ground in a kind of pale-half light that reminded Quistis of a cemetery shrouded in mist. Some of the jagged masses protruding from the ground might once have been trees, but they had long since calcified and become part of the stone.

A nervous feeling that had nothing to do with her daily bouts of nausea had also begun to crawl up into her throat. Her hand shook a little as she removed her headset. Why had they flown her all the way out here? Why not show her a local site, instead of shedding the gil it would take to transport her all the way out and back?

She shivered. Something about this area…_something wasn't right.  
_  
The landing site of the helicopter contained a few all-terrain vehicles, a small radio center, and a couple of make-shift toilets. Her escort handed her a heavy hooded coat, and the two set off across the desolate plains. They passed the drive in silence- her companion seemed distracted, and Quistis was afraid to open her mouth for all the sand.

At last, the jeep parked by a large, craggy cliff. Her companion muttered something into his radio, and quickly exited the vehicle to open her door for her.

"Thank you." She said, offering him a smile as he helped her down.

The young man nodded politely, handing her a mask and a pair of safety glasses. "Please, Miss Trepe, put these on. There is extensive drilling here, and the resulting dust has been known to cause internal bleeding if inhaled."

_Lovely. She was liking this place more and more._

"Thank you," replied Quistis, snapping on the mask and the goggles as she followed behind him.

The cave was a direct contrast to the outer landscape- it was beautiful and full of color. The inside featured a dome ceiling full of stalactite. The occasional patch of sunlight filtered down in soft shafts of light where the stone walls broke open to the sky above.

It would have been peaceful here, were it not for the hammer of the drills and the echo of voices. The ground seemed to hum beneath Quistis's feet as she looked around.

To her disappointment, she saw that Hojo was already there, marking something down on his clipboard and in deep discussion with Lucrecia, who looked troubled when she glanced in their direction. Quistis turned to ask her companion if he might show her around, but he seemed to have disappeared.

_Well, shit._

Quistis sighed and started forward, ruing the day she had agreed to a personal tour.

Hojo's eyes narrowed as Quistis approached in what might have been amusement. It was difficult to discern anything on the man's face besides a keen, penetrating, and utterly inhuman interest.

Lucrecia smiled as she saw Quistis, bowed to them both, then walked over to talk to another scientist, pointing emphatically at one of her charts as they talked.

Hojo turned a page on his clipboard. "Miss Trepe. So happy you could make it."

"I appreciate the invitation." She looked around, removing her mask so that she could speak without garbling her words.

"It's Shinra's pleasure to have such a vital contributor pay us a visit," replied Hojo without a trace of sincerity. "If you have no objections, I'll draw a small blood sample now. The usual pint will not be required this time."

"Yes, that's fine," replied Quistis. To her intense relief, instead of taking her arm in his clammy grip, he summoned a waiting tech, who tapped her arm, inserted the syringe, and gathered one small vial before applying a gauze patch and securing it with medical tape, instructing her to fold her arm for a minute or two. It was a refreshing change from the usual hour spent on one of the lab's cots, immersed in the sterile white room with nothing colorful to stare at but her own blood.

Hojo pocketed the vial. "You will excuse me if I work as we converse?"

"Of course." Anything to get that penetrating stare off of her. She followed as Hojo walked. "These are your extraction units, am I right?"

"Yes."

"The tanks and the pumps…" Quistis narrowed her eyes. "But your refinement process occurs back at the Shinra Science Division?"

Hojo scrawled something on the clipboard. "Yes."

"The transfer…the extraction…how do you accomplish this without a bio medium?" asked Quistis.

"Simple." Hojo removed his glasses and ran a cloth over them, fogging the lenses with his breath before each swipe. "We don't."

Something cold settled in her, but she struggled against it. "Then I'm afraid I don't follow. The initial means of extraction are the mechanical pumps, which use high pressure to extract the energy from the planet…but, to which medium are they then affixed? Magi…Materia can't be affixed sustainably to a non-living source, and there's been no recent findings that prove differently."

Hojo's eyes sparkled with amusement, but it was not a kind version of the sentiment. "Been attempting a little science yourself, Miss Trepe?"

Something Quistis vaguely recognized as pride began to boil under her skin. "I dabble," she replied coldly.

Hojo put his glasses back on. "This place, Mt. Nibel, as it has come to be called, is one of the few places that house a true Mako fountain, or Draw point, as I believe you SeeDs still call it. The mechanical pumps you see here extract the energy and are replaced every 2-3 months, when they are transported back to Shinra and decompressed in the reactor."

"But that doesn't answer my question," insisted Quistis. "I see machines, but no biomedium."

Hojo did not look up from his notes. "As I said, have a look for yourself."

Quistis approached one of the machines, already frowning. There was a clear glass shield at the top, like a diving bubble she'd seen for oceanic exploration. Climbing the short side ladder, she peered down into the top of the machine.

Wiping away the dust from the surrounding rocks, she peered in-

-and looked directly into a pair of pale eyes.

She jerked back so fast she almost fell off the ladder, her hand clutched at her chest.

"That- that was-" She turned on Hojo, her eyes blazing as she jumped to the ground, advancing on him. "That's a human being!"

"No," replied Hojo calmly, turning a page in his report. "That is a collection of conduits, all with artificial heartbeats and without brainwaves."

A collection? There were more?

"And how many of them were clinically dead before you put them in there?" she spat before she could stop herself.

"Hard to say," replied Hojo boredly, marking something else on his sheet before turning a page. "At any rate, most of the specimens you see within are the recipients of death sentences issued by several major governments. At least, here, they can be of benefit to society, which, I assure you, is more than they ever were while breathing. At any rate, we have all the appropriate documentation signing rights to their cadavers over to us, should you care to see them."

Quistis gaped at him. Hojo had told her that she would have difficulty believing the extent governments would go to obtain affordable energy…and he was right. She now fully understood why Hojo had gone though all the trouble to ship her out here to see this- he wanted her to understand the full extend of Shinra's reach, and he wanted her to tell her friends. The knowledge made her stomach squirm again, and she grit her teeth to hold back the sickness.

Hojo handed his clipboard to a waiting tech. "Replace A-4. It's a defective specimen, and the deposits aren't holding. Use one fresh off the line this time. The ones in storage don't have the same voltage potentials."

"Yes, sir," replied the tech, bowing her head and hurrying off.

He turned back to Quistis, folding his hands in front him. "You asked how the machine works, I believe? The machine itself does little- it extracts the energy by compression, feeding it into the tubes you saw connected to the specimen. As you said yourself, mako energy has a high affinity for the voltage generated by living cells. The energy feeds into the spinal cord and diffuses into the plasma, supersaturating the cells to amazing levels. There is no mag-poisoning in this case, as you would call it, as the energy is passively generated without the cellular voltage adjustment that causes the damage. The entire extraction device, which we call a temporary E.G.G., or Ergo-Generating Graft, is then transferred to our plant, where we decompress the entire capsule in the generator at a very high level of pressure, creating the materia spheres."

"But that-"

"Ceases the artificial life functions of the specimens, yes."

Quistis narrowed her eyes. "Does Gast know about this?"

Hojo chuckled. "Gast helped to design the technology that runs it. And so did you."

Quistis shook her head, trying to dislodge the feeling swimming in her gut.

Hojo smiled, enjoying her discomfort. "We have your case study to thank, after all. It seems that mag-poisoning is generated mostly by the certain metabolic activity inherent in living cells. Normally, the energy won't interact with the cells, but supersaturated levels seem to block vital voltage gateways and interfere with cellular activity, ergo the 'poisoning' effects you experienced. In limiting the metabolic functions in the recipients, or containers, we eliminate the problem altogether, tripling the rate of absorption."

Quistis stared down at the machine again. It was revolting, yes….but….amazing, too…..

Her stomach squirmed suddenly, and she feverently hoped she did not throw up in front of Hojo.

But Hojo was already leafing through another report, and did not seem to register her discomfort. "I'm afraid that I must attend to a minor malfunction in t-E.G.G. 6. We'll depart back to the lab in a moment- in the meantime, as an honored guest of Shinra Coorporation, I am obliged to tell you to look around to your heart's content, and to enjoy your time here."

Quistis looked after him. What to do now?

_Enjoy your time here._

….**right**.

Quistis leaned on the machine. She hated it here. She hated Hojo, she hated the underground lab with its tanks full of twisted, mangled creatures, she hated that she was bound to his place until Shinra tired of the contract. She was tired, she was miserable, and she wanted to go home and rest against Seifer's solid shoulder and put her feet in the ocean and forget that these parts of the world, this greed and manipulation and these men like Hojo, existed at all-

A body drifting in the liquid suddenly bumped against the tank, its unblinking eyes swarming closely to hers. Her fingers flexed out, startled, and the specimen twitched again, the grey limbs spidering out in a kind of grim imitation of life.

Hojo had already walked away, fortunately, and did not see her put her hand over her mouth as she stepped back.

Quistis stared after Hojo a moment before looking back into the tank, pressing her fingers against the cold glass as much to steady herself as anything. Twenty pairs of eyes looked listlessly back at her, maybe more. Their expressions were dead, as cold and grey as their naked bodies. Wires pierced their spines and major pulse points- she could see the energy gathering in point-source pools that gave the deteriorating tissue a faint glow. Perhaps they had been criminals, but…did they deserve this?

They were only bodies, perhaps, but to be used in this way...there was something unnatural, terrible, about the corpse batteries drifting through the milky fluid.

Hojo had said that Shinra acquired most of the hosts through government 'donations' of convicted criminals….but where did he get the rest?

She flexed her hand again against the glass, feeling cold and clammy as she stared down into the lifeless eyes beneath her, feeling the vibrations of the earth in her feet, in her hands, and in her head now, whispering, the corpse's pale eyes now boring into hers-

"_Knowlespole_…."

Frowning, she glanced behind her.

_"Time…..must make time…….not enough _**time**_-"_

No one was there. She turned back to the tank, to the cold and clammy feeling and the awful thing in the tank, its eyes on her-

_"The north…Knowlespole…falling star……if….if we go……go to the frozen north…destroy the star….we destroy the destroyer-" _

A hand on her shoulder. A voice in her ear, and she was at once withdrawing her hand, her vision focusing again on the body in the tank, which was floating away now, drifting aimlessly through the blue liquid-

"Miss Trepe." It was the young man from earlier, the one with the dark gentle eyes. "The others have finished and are returning to camp. Please. I'll escort you back." He seemed to hesitate. "Are you all right, Miss Trepe?"

"Yes. Thank you," she murmured, peering at his name tag for the first time since their introduction. "…Vincent."

……

…

..

It was nearly twilight when Rinoa emerged from the ruins, winding the cloak around her head to avoid the stinging wind. There were deep circles under her eyes, and her cheeks bore the stains of tears, but they were quickly drying.

She took with her only her sketchbook and a soft smile as she began the long trek back home.

She had found what she was looking for.

………….

…….

…

Hojo liked to do his work in the containment room now, with its soft blue light ribboning off of the walls and the gentle hum of the nutrient tanks. He liked the quiet, as the room itself was off limits to all but the highest security clearances.

Mostly, he liked to watch the specimen, liked to watch the light play upon her flesh, liked to look at his treasure and experience the thrill when he thought of what lay ahead, the great things he would do.

Tonight, his pleasure was interrupted by Gast's thin shadow in the doorway. The good doctor looked as if he hadn't slept in days; his clothes were rumpled and dark bags hung under his eyes. He was holding a sheath of papers- they stuck out at odd angles from under his arm.

"Is there something I can help you with, Gast?" asked Hojo, glancing up from his paperwork.

"I went to Esthar last week," replied the doctor. "I met with Odine."

Hojo set down his pen. "And?"

"And he told me everything. What you're doing….these things…." Gast shook his head. "It's madness, Hojo."

"You came here to tell me that?" asked Hojo, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "You've been saying it all along, haven't you?"

"This is different," replied Gast. "The t-E.G.G.s, the unsuccessful trials-"

"The t- .E.G.G.s were based off of your research."

"The trials were intended to be transferred to living, acquiescing people! You took that research and-

"I took that research," replied Hojo calmly. "And I made it _efficient_. Your problem, Gast, is that you treat science as if it's a fairytale book with a happy ending. Science is extraction. Manipulation. Degradation. It's meant to be efficient, not whimsical."

"I'm-"

Hojo adjusted his glasses. "You're involved, is what you are, in every awful inch of it."

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "And maybe I no longer wish to be."

Hojo rolled his eyes. "You're well-funded here. You can take all those little excursions you like to Centra, take a stick and pick through the ashes of a people irrelevant to the present-"

Gast's gaze darkened. "There's every evidence, both in written an oral traditions, that the survivors dispersed and formed new civilizations, populating-"

"-and abandoning their old cultures and irrelevant traditions, thus making them effectively extinct in any present meaningful context," replied Hojo boredly. "You're missing my point. Where do you think you'll take this newfound moral outrage? To Shinra? He's copied on every gil that runs through this place. Shinra wants people that produce results, not foolish crusaders, and could care less about how it's done, so long as it **is**. You could appeal to the governments, to the same people that fund our little research here, or perhaps you could go to an independent contractors like SeeD, which will be the equivalent of a flying paperweight once Shinra mobilizes the military contracts."

Hojo turned in his chair to regard Gast fully. "Perhaps it's time for you to abandon your pretty little notions of the world, and become either a productive member of the scientific community, or a philosopher king that gathers dust in the archives."

"_You_ lecture me about science?" seethed Gast. "You _fool_, you've been running blind tests, you're exposing people to things you don't fully understand, and you're putting us all at risk in the process!"

"Risk and reward, Gast," replied Hojo blithely. "And the next time you go on one of your little outings, at least be productive. You might have saved the lab the expense of transporting Odine here."

"You're having him transferred?" Gast had no idea how Hojo had managed to go through the court and the psychiatric ward, but he had the feeling that the transfer did not bode well for Odine. Like all of Shinra's assets, apparently the good president wanted to keep a closer eye on his prized scientific contributor.

"Yes, it's much more convenient to pick his brain here than to collaborate long distance."

_Pick his brain._ Gast tightened his hold on his notes.

"You'll excuse me now, Gast, I have to see about these latest readings. We can go over our plans for the site unveiling tomorrow." With that, Hojo turned back to his makeshift desk, the blue light of the tank casting an eerie glow on his sleek dark head.

Hojo heard Gast leave, and smiled to himself. A promising enough mind, but an idiot just the same. If Gast kept in his current directions, sadly, he would not have much of a future with Shinra Corp- or, in fact, a future at all.

Hojo's pocket beeped, and he slipped his hand in to grab his cell phone and flip it open. "Yes?"

"The tests have been confirmed, Dr. Hojo."

"And?"

"Positive, as you thought."

In lieu of a goodbye, Hojo simply closed the phone, leaning back in his chair. Excellent. The project could soon begin in full swing now, with the new materials soon to be at hand.

He gazed at the thing in the tank, and the thing in the tank seemed to gaze back at him- waiting, as he was waiting.

Of course, it was only a trick of the light.

………………

……

….

Blue.

_Blue.  
_

**Blue.**

Quistis Trepe sat at her kitchen table, surrounded by the color. In front of her, a mess of packaging, torn boxes, and small cylindrical plastic containers lay strewn about, all the clutter interspersed by the bright lines and circles.

_Blue_.

Quistis pushed her hair back from her eyes, then pressed her palm to her forehead, bracing herself against the table. She grabbed a box, looked at it, then set it back down on the table again.

The first box had been placed in her travel bag by Selphie as a kind of joke, and Quistis, bored at home with only the dogs for company, had later thought it would be a waste not to try it out. It wasn't as if she would have any other opportunity in her life.

"Not possible…" she murmured, staring at the color.

And yet, there they were, lined up before her….10 different pieces of evidence that all flew in the face of her logic and denial.

"Not possible," she said again, louder this time, as if her words would scatter the ridiculous scenario into a strange dream.

Cerberus put his head in her lap, wagging his tail.

She'd had to go on two trips to the store after the first one, which seemed to greatly amuse the clerk.

But the first one was a mistake, it wasn't possible….

_But every single one…._

She reached for the phone.

It was time to call Doctor Kadowaki.


	16. Letter 7

_My dear friend,_

_Today has been one of those days. Quite frankly, I'm afraid to leave the house, lest anything else happen, so I've decided to stay in, have a hot cup of tea, and write you a letter about my bad day. What harm could possibly come of that? (I'm already sorry I wrote that down…it feels like I'm tempting fate!)_

_It all started when Zack decided that he was going to make me breakfast in bed. So he got up early, made sure I was asleep, hauled out an entire bag of flour, a big carton of eggs, and the ceramic chicken full of sugar. He then proceeded to dump everything into a large bowl, add water, and mix it up in to a gelatinous mess before carefully ladeling it into a bowl and putting it on a TV tray. As you know 'carefully' translated in the two year old tongue, means he got about a third of it into the bowl, on third of it on the counter, and 1/3 of it on the dogs, who must have thought the food god had dropped from the sky. By the time he got it into the bedroom, there was a trail of flour lumps, egg yolk, granulated sugar clumps, and eggshell down the hallway. Quistis, it took me over three hours to clean up, and I haven't even gotten to the best part- I had to EAT some of it. You should have seen him, Quistis- he had so much flour in his hair it looked almost white. (As I write this, he's playing with his favorite plastic T-Rexaur in the tub- I can see him through the slit in the bathroom door.) I couldn't punish him- he went though all of that trouble, and he was so excited, how could I not try some of it? The best thing I can say about it was that it definitely represented all of the consistencies- gooey, soft, hard, crunchy- you could really get a feel for the hard sugar crystals among the cold slippery goo of the egg white and the pillowy softness of the flour clumps. I'm making myself sick again just thinking about it. When Zack wasn't looking, I threw the rest of it down the sink...and now the sink is clogged. Ugh. I have spent the morning putting combination locks on all the kitchen cabinets and I have hidden the ceramic sugar chicken. When Zack asked me why, I told him we were protecting our things from robbers. I am so glad he is young enough to believe me. This afternoon, I have a date with the plunger and the now-stuffed sink…but I'm putting it off as long as possible._

_To top off my day, Celes and Daenen are very upset with me. Apparently I promised to take them out for a walk to explore the beach by the Centra Ruins today, but I can't for the life of me remember telling them that. Edea is gone for the day, and I certainly can't take Zack there- it's much too long of a trip on foot and Edea has the vehicle to run her errands. Apparently it's not just one single thing I can't remember. Yesterday, I received a package that I can't remember ordering, I've misplaced Angelo and Seraphim's vaccination records, and I've lost my grocery slip again. I will be so happy when this baby is born- these hormones are making me so forgetful!_

_If I forget my own name, you'll remind me, won't you?_

_I have send my manuscript off to the entertainment powers that be in Esthar- we'll see how they like it! If nothing else, I'm quite pleased with how it turned out, and Squall says that's all that matters. (Of course it isn't, really, what good is performance art that nobody else wants to hear or see? My mother would have agreed with that.) I'll settle for the opinion between Squall's and my mother's- I'll be happy with the finished project, and hope against hope that somebody else is happy with it, too._

_Did you see the latest from the D.S. Research center? "Unprecedented plate shifts in Gaia's crusts leading to dangerous wave activity", and they think it's coming from Shinra's terrestrial mako mines. At this rate, they said, Gaia's plate structure is going to be radically different within ten year's time! Maybe we'll be neighbors by then! (haha). I guess I found the article so interesting because the whole time I was imagining our two little worlds getting closer and closer, till I could walk across a tiny crack of ocean and borrow a cup of sugar from you!_

_I think, though, that Shinra's going to have to find a different way to extract Mako energy- even President Shinra doesn't have enough money to pay off the D.S. Research center...does it?_

_Speaking of Shinra, another representative came to the house yesterday (I can only assume they took the company helicopter), and asked if I would like to reconsider my involvement in their current studies. I conjured up a nice big Thundaga spell, and asked them if they would like to reconsider their frequent visits to my home. I wish you could have been there, Quisty, I was totally badass! You would have been so proud of me! Don't mention any of this to Squall, though- any more trouble from Shinra Corp and I think he really will make good on his threats and bring the building to the ground in a smoldering rubble._

_I suppose it's time to end my pity party, pluck Zack out of the tub before he turns into a prune, and try to make up the day to Celes and Daenen. It's odd, but just writing all this down and imagining you reading it has made me feel a lot better- you're like my own personal long-distance psychiatrist, Quistis!_

_I hope you're having a much better day than I am, at any rate. Give me a call soon- I could use a sympathetic ear!_

_Much love,  
Rinoa_


	17. Divisions

A/N: Before this chapter gets rolling, let me just say Quistis's little rant at Dr. Kadowaki is by no means meant to be pro or anti anything on behalf of this author. I have my own opinion, of course, but I don't think that needs to enter in here. I have good friends that have made both decisions, and I recognize that neither is an easy decision to make. I just don't think that _this_ version of Quistis, given the gamete I've run her through, would be in any way inclined to follow Kadowaki's initial advice. For those of you still with me, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Oh, come on, really? After all this time? All right, don't own 'em, never will.

……………

……

"Is this line secure?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"I _made_ sure."

"Everything's ready, then? All of the seeds are planted?"

"Yes. All of them. Every single one."

"Good."

"Now what?"

"Simple. Now we wait for the harvest."

…

Several miles away in a small vinyl tent, Selphie put down her headphones. At her signal, Zell set down the antennae. "Hyne, could they be any more vague? Cryptic little fuckers," muttered the martial artist.

"Twenty seconds...not long enough for an exact trace, but I have their location down to Timber, somewhere in the eastern quadrant," said Selphie. "The other location, of course, is our trace on the switchboard at the Black Forest Motel in Esthar...I couldn't route it back that fast, sorry."

"It's fine," replied Squall. "I thought they'd be in Timber, given the intel."

Squall stood outside the tent, his hands in his pockets as he looked up at the stars. "Don't know," he replied distractedly, running a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. Each wore a cloaking chip of Ceres's design, and had they not grown up together, they might have had difficulty determining who was who. It was a necessary precaution- Xu could no longer rule out that they were not in some way being monitored by Shinra. As a further precaution, they were going under false names as well, which Zell kept forgetting. If someone were to discover them out there, they'd destroy their surveillance equipment and claim to be a family out enjoying the campgrounds in their quaint little tents.

"The guy said 'seeds'...you think there might be more than one location?" asked Selphie.

"Or more than one bomb at a single location," replied Zell. "Could be trying the concentrate their firepower into one place for a bigger show, in which case, my money's on the new Nibelheim reactor. That's where the press'll be camped out."

"It'll also be ten times as risky," replied Squall. "The group has to know that's where Shinra's expecting to be hit, and where it'll concentrate its forces. It would be gusty, even for them."

"What do you think, then?" asked Selphie. "Station a SeeD or two at every location? That'll run up Shinra's security bill something fierce. There's what, over 30 locations globally where Shinra's stuck an extractor?"

"More than that. At least forty that are semi to fully operational." Squall shook his head. "At any rate, money's no problem for these people. I'll report our findings, and they can elect to do whatever they want."

"You don't like working for Shinra, do ya, commander?" asked Zell, sticking the antennae back into a tarp-covered piece of dirt.

"No," replied their commander. "And you shouldn't either."

Zell chuckled. "Oh, believe me, I don't. So when're we gonna run the second half of our little outing, anyway?"

"Soon," replied Squall. "I need to wait for Strife to get set up in Esthar, should be two days at the most. I'm going to go ahead and do some scouting- you two can meet me there in three days time, at the location we discussed. Check out the east side of Timber, tighten it up and see if there's anything still there. If you encounter anything, you know where to reach me." With that, Squall, or the bearded older man Selphie and Zell knew was really Squall, folded into the darkness, walking to the car which was a mile down the road.

Selphie looked down and made sure the switchboard in front of her was still operating. Luckily, at 3 a.m., most people had stopped making calls out of the hotel. It was a relief; she was getting a little tired of listening in on every other boring conversation that came out of the hotel switchboard, although there was one involving a certain Estharian senator and his…well what did you call a male mistress? A mister?

"Now what?" asked Zell, his holochip making him bear a strong, creepy resemblance to a younger General Caraway in Selphie's own opinion.

"Now," she replied, shrugging, "We wait, I suppose, just like them."

..  
.

….

….

"It's positive," said Kadowaki, snapping her rubber gloves into the waste bin.

A cold feeling shot through Quistis like an ice water tap shooting from her heart to the souls of her feet. She could feel her face drain of color. "But…you said…"

"That the mag poisoning probably disrupted you internally. Evidently, some functions were unaffected." The doctor paused. "I'd say you're about 2 months along, give or take. Barring an ultrasound, I can't be sure."

Quistis gaped at the older woman. "I don't understand."

"Surely you understand the mechanics of conception," replied Kadowaki. Far from being humorous, however, her voice was thin and dry.

The cold was fading, and slowly, was being replaced by a slow, spreading warmth. She laid a hand over her stomach. A baby? _Her_? **_A baby?_**

A small smile came to Quistis's lips. "I…I can't believe it…."

Dr. Kadowaki's mouth was set in a grim line. "It's a bit early to run an amniocentesis, but Quistis, the fetus is most likely severely abnormal."

"I…what?" asked Quistis, her smile still in place.

"The state of your body is in no condition to harbor a child, and even in the most unlikely scenario in which it runs to term, it will be most likely deformed, severely mentally handicapped, or both. Your case is unprecedented, true, but we have nothing, _nothing_ to indicate the fetus would be normal under _any_ circumstances…"

The warm feeling that had begun to bloom in her chest was fading. "What are you saying?"

"I'm recommending an early termination of the pregnancy."

"You want me to just…get rid of it?" her voice was louder than she expected.

Kadowaki turned a pained gaze on the woman in front of her. "Quistis, the condition of your ovaries, which had ceased function following your coma, not to mention your eggs…have you been taking anything for ovulation?"

Quistis narrowed her eyes at the doctor. "_No_. Absolutely not."

Kadowaki shook her head. "Genetically speaking, it's highly probable that several mutations have occurred in your egg, to say nothing of your zygote…there is an incredibly low probability that you will have a normal child, if indeed your body can carry it to term at all. I can do the procedure today, in less than an hour. If you'd like to go outside of Garden, I can recommend-"

"No." She did not know where the word came from, but found that she meant it completely. Somewhere in the span of the past five seconds, she had discovered the existence of another life inside her, and found she wanted to protect it. Was this how Rinoa had felt?

The doctor's stern expression relaxed a fraction. "I know this is hard to hear….perhaps you should talk to Seifer…."

Quistis' face, once lit with a soft glow, had hardened into something between anger and resolve. "No. I won't do it. Whatever happens…whatever he says…I won't do it."

Kadowaki wondered if Quistis had noticed that from the minute she had recommended a termination, Quistis' hand had gone to splay protectively over her stomach.

"Perhaps if you need some time, you could discuss-"

"I don't need any time. As long as it's alive, I can't….I won't do it." She got to her feet, clutching her gown tight to her chest. "If you're unwilling to treat me, I'll look for another doctor."

Hurt flashed in the older woman's eyes. "That won't be necessary. But Quistis…." She turned to face Quistis fully, her hands at her sides. Seeing the set look in the young woman's eyes, the doctor sighed. "All right, then, let's get you started on a vitamin regimen. 500 microgram supplement of folic acid, I think, given your history an extra daily supplement of calcium and iron. I'm going to have to get some print-outs…."

Quistis sat back down, relaxing her grip on her hospital gown.

Kadowaki opened a drawer, rifling through its contents. "Your visits to Shinra will have to stop."

"….I know. I'll tell them at the next appointment."

Kadowaki turned away from Quistis for a moment, wracking her brain. Since working at Garden, Kadowaki had never dealt with a pregnancy. As such, Kadowaki had nothing on hand for one.

Given the randy nature of teenagers (especially those with such high-risk lifestyles all stuck together in a floating faction), all SeeD's were put on hormonal suppressants, which blanked out the males and stopped ovulation altogether in the females. SeeD was a financial investment as well as an investment in training and educational hours, and it was unthinkable to lose one to a phenomenon as preventable as pregnancy. Any underclassmen dealing with such issues usually 'took care' of the problem in a neighboring town, or dropped out.

When Quistis had nearly killed herself on the battlefield several years ago, Kadowaki had been worried enough for her organ function, to say nothing of her unlikely future in bearing children. Kadowaki had assessed the young woman over the course of her recovery, and concluded that, due to stress, her cycle had most likely been permanently suspended by her body. There was no way to say for sure, as Quistis's case had been unprecedented, but Kadowaki had considered the possibility highly unlikely. Given the already tenuous balance of the young woman's system, Kadowaki had been unwilling to push her theories any further.

Apparently, she had been wrong.

Kadowaki made a mental note to read up on the latest prenatal care suggestions as she wrote Quistis a list of the vitamins she would need to purchase. The young woman was now looking out the window, her face still pale and lined with worry, but there was something else there too, present in the slightly upturned corners of her mouth that lit her face in a soft glow. She had never seen the girl's usually stoic face so gentle.

"When are you going to tell Seifer?" asked Kadowaki, preparing a syringe for another blood draw.

The woman's smile dimmed a fraction. "…I…I don't know."

…..

…

….

……

…..

"Hello?"

"...hey, Rinoa, it's-"

"Quistis!" squealed her friend. "I'm so happy you called! I was just thinking about you today and- wait, just let me set this down and- _Zacharias_, that had better not be your pony saddle on that dog's back, do you remember what happened last time?"

There was a petulant murmur in the background, to which Rinoa replied, "Well, _I_ do. Take the doggies outside and play now. Yes, you can take the beach ball. Stay by the window so I can see." Quistis heard a sigh, then, "Sorry about that. He's got it into his head that Seraphim is some sort of rodeo dog, and of course she lets him get away with anything."

Quistis laughed. "It's all right." She had grown used to the constant phone distractions in the Leonhart house- with three kids and two dogs, they were inevitable.

"So-"

"Wait, wait, let me get comfortable here in the chair. I've been itching for some girl talk!" exclaimed her friend.

"Thanks for sending me Gast's new publication, by the way."

"Oh! You enjoyed it?"

"Yes, it was really interesting; it's such a little-known civilization. I'm wondering when Gast is going to get around to DNA testing sample populations in each of the cities, trace where the bloodlines have flowed to since the destruction of the Centra."

"Oh, who knows. Shinra science seems terribly _utilitarian_, doesn't it? I doubt he'll get much funding where cultural research is concerned."

"Definitely not," agreed Quistis. "How's life at the sea cottage?"

"Crazy," replied Rinoa. "Squall's on another mission with Zell and Selphie right now, so we won't see him for at least a week."

"It's the same with Seifer. He's been back for two days, and already he's taking off for Esthar… _again_," replied Quistis.

"Is everything all right, Quisty?" Rinoa's voice was softer now, and Quistis knew she had picked up on the bitterness in her tone.

"I don't know." sighed Quistis. "It seemed like we were happy....but I guess we weren't, not if he never wants to be here…."

"Have you _asked_ him?" asked Rinoa carefully.

"No."

"Why not?"

"…I think I'm afraid of the answer," replied Quistis despondently.

Rinoa sighed. "Quisty, you can be so silly sometimes! There's no doubt that big meanie loves you," said Rinoa. "He's **said** so, hasn't he?"

"He....yes, of course he has." Quistis's stomach clenched with her lie.

That was the thing...he _hadn't_.

To be fair, neither had she- not deliberately, not in the light of day, she'd been too much of a coward. Oh, she'd thrown it into the empty spaces after he'd fallen asleep, and said it when she knew he couldn't hear her…at least that was what she told herself, how she explained away his lack of a response. There had been times....moments...things he had done...things he said, that had made her believe, but now....

A pause on the line. "There's something else bothering you, isn't it?"

"No...I just..."

"Quistis, you should know by now I'm like a walking lie detector, and anyway, you're not a very good liar. What is it?"

"It's just...I..."

**CRASH**.

"MY ROSE BUSH! ZACHARIAS CID LEONHART, WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT RIDING THAT DOG! YOU ARE GOING TO CRACK YOUR LITTLE HEAD OPEN!" Quistis heard the screen door slam, followed by what Quistis thought were Rinoa's thundering footsteps down the cobbled walk. "SERAPHIM IS **NOT** A CHOCOBO! HOW MANY TIMES HAS MOMMY TOLD YOU, ZACK? HOW MANY TIMES? THAT IS **IT**, MISTER, YOU ARE ABOUT TO GET-"

But whatever 'Mister Zack' was or was not about to get was cut off by a loud thud accompanied by a louder wail, which lead Quistis to believe that Zack had finally made good on Rinoa's fears and indeed cracked open some part of his skeletal structure.

"SEE? SEE? WHAT DID MOMMY SAY, ZACK! Oh, Quistis, I'll call you back, Zack just-"

The line clicked suddenly, cutting off Zack's wails and Rinoa's screeching admonishments. Quistis, meanwhile, was left holding one end of the phone line, and speaking into the dialtone.

"I'm pregnant," she said softly, to no one.

………..

…….

…..

……….

"Dunno, man, she's just been acting weird lately." Irvine dangled his long legs off of the pier, taking a long pull from his beer before casting his line back into the water. If someone had told him years ago that he'd be spending his Sunday afternoon fishing with Seifer Almasy, he would have suggested they get their head examined. As things were, now, it didn't really seem all that strange.

"Weird for the messenger girl? That's gotta be pretty damned out there, then," replied Seifer, cursing as his line tangled around the reel. "There must be something in the water- Trepe's been on edge lately, too."

"What's wrong with Quisty?"

"Hell if I know. She's been quiet as fuck lately, distracted. Keeps walking into a room, opening her mouth, shutting it, walking back out. Women should come with their own damned instruction manual."

"Hm. Did you ask her what was wrong?"

"Yeah. Didn't go over well."

Irvine lifted an eyebrow. "Let me guess…did you inquire gently and thoughtfully about her well-being with a sentence that started with something like, 'What the hell is wrong with you?'"

"Yeah, something to that effect." Seifer cast out his line again, cursing as the lure got stuck on the dock. He really was the worst fisherman ever, thought Irvine, rolling his eyes.

"Can't imagine _why_ that didn't go over well," Irvine chuckled. "Frankly, I'm amazed you've lasted this long, Almasy."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"Well, you're really different people, for one thing, an' fer another, Quisty's got such a low bullshit tolerance normally, while half the stuff that comes outta yer mouth might as well originate in a bull's ass. Really, I always thought it was like a praying mantis sorta deal. Like…one of these days after matin' she'd just pull of your head and have done with the whole thing."

"Thanks for the big vote of confidence, cowboy," replied Seifer, rolling his eyes.

Irvine chuckled, slapping Almasy on the back. "I kid, I kid. You make her happy, man, dunno how, but you do it."

Seifer drained the rest of his beer and got to his feet. "Speaking of the old ball and chain, I'd better get back and take the dogs for a fun. Quis's making lunch, then I've gotta join Puberty Boy and the ADD twins in Esthar. You can come along for lunch, if you want. Quis'd be happy to see you."

"No thanks, I like my stomach lining where it is."

"I'll pass that along."

"You wouldn't." replied Irvine. "Besides, you do that, and I'll tell her what really happened to her chicken casserole. 'Slipped off the table' my foot."

"Asshole."

"Hey, don't threaten a mercenary," Irvine grinned and waved him off. "Nah, thanks anyway, but I got a meetin' with Xu later on and I've got some paperwork to finish up from the last mission. 'Parently you're not supposed t'use a grade b pipe bomb to open a terrorist's door. See you later, Almasy."

Irvine watched him go. Who knew that Seifer Almasy would turn out to be a good guy? Irvine turned back to the ocean and finished off the rest of his beer.

Eh. Stranger things had happened.

…….

……

….

The skirt steak was cooling on a burner to the side, neatly sliced into thick, meaty ribbons. The peppers and onions were sautéing nicely on the stove, covered with a sheen of hot oil and peppered with minced garlic. The bread was browning in the toaster, and soon, it would be ready for the slices of pepper jack cheese she had waiting on the side. She'd cheated on the fries a little: they'd come in a plastic bag and she'd simply dumped them onto a tray, but no one needed to know that but her and the oven. OPERATION: LUNCH/GOOD NEWS was thus far a success. She would sit him down, he would eat his lunch of deliciously prepared cheese steak sandwiches and crisp delicious cheat-fries, and they would talk like two sensible adults about what they were going to do about....the surprise. Seifer would be shocked no doubt, but reasonable, and then he would accept the happy news and they would go pick out room colors and a crib for the baby. In the back of her mind, Quistis gave her overly optimistic imagination an eye roll.

The screen door banged shut, emitting one tall, lanky figure and two panting dogs, who immediately went for their water dishes. He was back from his run. The butterflies in her stomach, which had quieted somewhat while she was preparing lunch, began beating their wings like a thousand tiny helicopters.

"Mail call," announced Seifer, handing Quistis a handful of envelopes. "Hey, something smells good. Did you order in?"

"A thousand comedians out of work…" she replied, whacking him on the arm with the spatula before setting it down as she went through the mail. As a dead man, Seifer got little to no mail, so the daily stack of envelopes was usually for Quistis or Rajin. Quistis flipped through the stack, keeping her eye on the steak.

A utility bill, a Julia's Secret catalogue, a letter for Rajin, and-

Quistis' expression brightened as she took in the neat, flowing script and the return post mark on the last envelope. Setting down the spatula, she opened the envelope and read the letter, catching a small slip of paper as it fell from the neatly folded paper.

_Quistis__,___

I hope this letter finds you well. I am taking a welcome (if brief) respite from my paperwork to embark on a more pleasant business- obtaining your companionship for an evening, if you'll allow me. As you may know, the majority of my time has recently been spent welcoming Galbadia Garden's new Headmaster, Lorenzo Arkison, and acclimating him in the position. You may remember Arkison as a SeeD graduate a year behind myself and Chaze Bealis. I am reasonably confident that he is up to the job.

Thank you very much for your congratulations on my nomination for the Esthar Presidential ticket- it was a pleasure to receive your letter and your news of your progress in obtaining your medical license. It was, of course, an honor to be nominated and I am considering the position, although I confess myself to be rather tired of politics. I am sure you can relate. 

_I thoroughly enjoyed your recent publication on GF hippocampus effects in 2, 5, and 10 year junctions. Were you considering a further excursion into the rest of the limbic system as well? At any rate, your article made me very happy that I discontinued GF usage in my second year of the SeeD program._

I understand that you will be at the Shinra building on the afternoon of the 5th- a happy coincidence, as so shall I. If you'll recall our conversation some years ago at the Esthar Inn, I have now taken my project to Shinra to see if it can be improved. Thus far, I have been satisfied with the results, if somewhat disappointed by the necessary evils of collaborating with someone like Hojo. (Once again, I am sure you can relate.)

At any rate, I wonder if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to the Estharian Opera? We will be able to take my personal jet for the evening, and explore the city afterwards at our convenience. I have season tickets to the opera, and thought you might enjoy this particular show: have you heard of the Pirates of Aemberia? I am afraid most of my usual social companions do not share my enthusiasm for the theater, and provide for rather dull discussion besides. Not only do I find you to be a superior purveyor of conversation, I would also greatly welcome the chance to see you again. Enclosed, you'll find your ticket, should you choose to join me.

Please send your reply via my secretary, Ealeen. My office number is enclosed below. I would have you use my current cell phone; however, I am afraid I will be out of town and its remote service is quite unreliable. 

_I look forward to your anticipated acceptance._

Most sincerely yours,

Serabin Glyphias

"Who's the letter from?" asked Seifer, lacing his boots.

"Serabin," replied Quistis, smiling as she set the envelope and its contents onto the counter, carefully tucking the glossy ticket between the pages. "We're going to be at Shinra at the time this month, and he's invited me to the Estharian Opera afterwards."

_My last visit at Shinra_, she thought to herself, feeling a little giddy. She _could_ do it over the phone, but then she would miss Hojo's disappointed expression…and the chance to rack up sizeable room service bill as a guest of the Shinra Corp.

Seifer's eyebrows knit together. "You're not actually thinking of _going_, are you?"

A frown was now knitting Quistis' eyebrows together. "I'll be there anyway. Why wouldn't I?"

Seifer straightened up from his perch over his boot. "Why _wouldn't_ you? Are you _seriously_ asking me that question?"

Quistis stirred the peppers. "You'll be in Esthar too, won't you? Why don't you come along? You could take some time out from mission, I'm sure Serabin could get you an extra ticket-"

"Like hell."

Quistis slammed down the spatula. "So I'm getting together with an old friend...what's the big deal?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

"What's the big _deal_?" repeated Seifer. "You don't see me taking out every girl I've ever fucked for a friendly dinner!"

Quistis's shoulders tensed. "Of course not," she replied, gripping the spatula like a knife handle. "You'd be _destitute_."

Seifer's expression darkened. "My point is, you don't see me looking up old flames-"

Annoyed now, Quistis picked up the spatula. "Serabin isn't an 'old flame'. He's a _present friend_."

"Right. Does _Serabin_ know that?" Seifer's tone was nasty, the same cajoling tone he'd used with her as her student, one that immediately kindled the long buried fires of her resentment towards him.

"Of course he does. Do **you**?"

Seifer said nothing, but turned angrily back to his boots, cursing as he snapped off a brittle shoelace.

Quistis turned back to her pan of peppers, which now resembled blackened, shriveled shoelaces more than they did something edible. The steaks strips, which once looked so pink and juicy, were now crusted over and emitting thin streams of smoke. OPERATION: LUNCH was ruined, and why shouldn't it be? She was a crippled ex-mercenary with a disappearing act for a boyfriend, not Suzie-damned-homemaker.

Beyond frustrated, she slid the pan off the burner with enough force to slam it against the dials. Gritting her teeth, she turned back to Seifer, all of her anger and resentment flushing to the surface. Normally, she would have said nothing. The old Quistis Trepe said nothing, asked for nothing, complained about nothing, and expected nothing.

Well, she was sick and tired of the old Quistis Trepe.

Words that the old Quistis would have never said came running to the surface of her tongue, and she released them with vigor. "And besides, _you're_ never here anymore! It's one mission after that other, even the ones you could afford to hand off to the less experienced cadets. You obviously don't want to be here, with **me**, so what do you really care what I do when you aren't?"

"I'm _taking_ these fucking missions in the first place so that-" Seifer trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence. Yes, he wanted her to know eventually, (it was kind of inevitable), but he didn't want to shout it across the kitchen table. It was supposed to be romantic and right and- _damnit_- not like this at all.

Silence stretched between them, and the look of fury eventually receded from her face, leaving a mix of hurt and exasperation. "Seifer, I had my chance to go to Galbadia with Serabin almost three years ago. I didn't. Doesn't that mean anything at all?"

"Yeah," replied Seifer, slamming his boots into his dufflebag, "Maybe it means you made a big fat fucking mistake."

Quistis' expression crumpled, and he could have kicked himself. He wanted to apologize, to tell her he was jealous and being an ass about it...but the truth was, he was still pissed as hell that she actually wanted to go.

"Here's the hotel I'll be at," he snarled, tossing a now crumpled sheet of paper onto the counter. "Call me if you get done fucking him before 4am, you can tell me how great he is in bed."

Quistis picked up the paper and responded by throwing it back at him. It ricocheted off his arm and tumbled to the floor as he stalked past her.

"Why don't you call _me_ when _you_ feel like growing up!" she shouted, but the screen door had already slammed shut.

Quistis shook her head, tears burning in her eyes as she dumped the now thoroughly ruined meal into the trash can. Styx, who had been watching the frying pan with hope, whimpered.

Shaking, Quistis slid into her chair, the heels of her hands pressed hard into her eyes.

_This was...._

Seifer leaned back against the closed door, running an agitated hand through his hair.

_Not how it was supposed to go...._

….at all.  


……..

…..

……….

Irvine had never quite gotten used to nights in Balamb Garden, or even Galbadia, for that matter. There was something sterile and unnatural about the silence, something that ate at his eardrums and kept him up nights. After the Second Sorceress War, Irvine had gone out and bought a noise machine and cranked it up to its highest setting. He especially liked the cricket setting, and wondered if it was some long lost thread from his childhood.

He had often wondered what his childhood had been like- he could remember only senseless pieces of it. He knew he had come to the orphanage when he was five, but beyond that…nothing. He remembered the smell of peppermint candies and horses and the sound of crickets beyond a screened in porch, but no people, no warmth, no soft voice singing him to sleep. He wondered why he remembered the things that didn't matter while he had forgotten the things that did.

He had often wondered if, had he been allowed to stay in that world, what kind of person he would have become. Would he still have been a sharpshooter? Would he have come to Garden, seeking structure? Would he have become one of the Liberi Fatali?

Irvine hadn't played his 'what-if' game for awhile…it was nothing but a pile of dead end questions that led nowhere fast, when you got right down to it. Irvine _had_ gone to Garden, become a sniper, and ended up one of the fabled heroes. He had the scars to prove it. Wondering about it didn't much matter anymore.

Xu's office door was open and the light was on, so he didn't bother knocking. The Headmistress was standing in front of the window, her arms folded behind her back. No matter how long Xu inhabited the position of Headmistress, or how many spartan-like changes she made to the decorum, this would always be Cid's room.

"Kinneas. Thank you for coming."

"What can I do for you, Xu?"

Xu turned from the window. "Sit down."

"Thanks Headmistress, but if y'all don't mind, been sittin' all day. Think I'll stand."

"Whatever you prefer," replied Chang indifferently, taking a seat at her old desk.

"You have a mission for me?" There was something silent and somber about Xu's demeanor tonight, and it was making him downright nervous.

"Of sorts. I wanted to continue our conversation from the cafeteria awhile back."

Irvine lifted an eyebrow. "Shouldn't the others be here for this?"

"Kinneas, do you _remember_ how that last conversation ended?" Xu's eyes darkened. Xu had learned the hard way that having a conversation with the 'Heroes' as a group about turning on one of their own was like trying to wedge a baby boar out of a sea of bristling backs.

"Yeah, I thought we agreed that waiting was all we could do," replied Irvine, crossing his arms.

"It's not _all_ we can do," replied Xu, reaching into her desk drawer and picking something out. She held her fist out. "Want to know what this is?"

Irvine's stomach clenched. "Honestly, no, darlin', I can't say as I really do."

Xu slapped her palm down on the desk and moved the object closer. It was a large bullet about the size of an almond. "This bullet was made using Odine's old technology, the same that was infused into the bangle that Rinoa tried to snap on Edea, years ago. It has an anti-mag generator, among other things. Highly resistant to shield magic."

"It's a hollow point bullet," replied Irvine, leaning over it. He did not want to pick it up.

"It's not _just_ a hollow point," replied Xu. "This technology is brand new. Once it hits tissue it'll expand and keep expanding, until it combusts into an array of lead confetti. Turn anything it touches into swiss cheese. Put one in the brains, say, and death is nearly instantaneous."

Irvine's eyes narrowed. "What's it you want me to do, Chang, walk up to my good ol' friend and put a bullet in the back of her head?"

"If it comes to it, yes." replied Xu. "In the end, it'll be someone she already knows that she allows to get close enough to do it, assuming some traces of Rinoa remain. The five of you are the only ones that have any real chance of killing her besides Squall, and we both know he's a lost cause."

Irvine's hand drew back from the bullet. "You're trying to turn us all against each other before there's anything there to separate us, Xu. What good you think that's gonna do?" said Irvine. "You weren't there when we fought Ultimecia. I think we, more'n **you**, know what's coming."

"Exactly. You fought _Ultimecia_. You didn't fight your friend. Look, Irvine, I'm trying to prepare you all for what is coming, when it comes," snapped Xu. "Leonhart and Heartily want to play house on the beach for a couple of years, have a few brats, live out their little fairytale, that's fine, maybe they're entitled to it in the cosmic scheme of things. But in the end, when it catches up with her, that thing sleeping inside of her is going to crawl out and take your heads off, and Leonhart's going to be helping her do it if he's not the first one she puts down."

"You don't know that it'll happen that way," said Irvine.

"And you don't know that it won't," replied Xu quietly. Her eyes flickered over Irvine. Rationality wouldn't work on him- time for the pathos, then. "Think about your friend, then, Irvine. What would **she** want?"

Irvine looked past her at the moonlight over Balamb's green fields. "That's rich, Xu, you actin' like you know what Rinoa wants."

Xu persisted. "Would you spare Rinoa's life at the expense of Selphie's? Of Zell's? Quistis's?" She paused. "When the time comes, I'm only asking for your help in aiding SeeD to do what it was created for. I came to you because I thought you, especially you, could understand it, even if you hated it. If you want to refuse, I'll understand, but I'll ask for your resignation from SeeD. This is a one time only offer. Keep in mind we'll do it, with or without you." With that, she presented him with her back again. "You're dismissed, Kinneas."

Xu waited long minutes after the door had closed behind Irvine. When she turned around, the bullet was gone. It was a victory, reflected Xu, but it did not feel so much like winning as losing by degrees.

Irvine was only the first. She would take them all aside, and, one by one, she would tell each of them that it was up to them to protect their family, their brothers and sisters, to save the shreds of their cursed friend before she further dishonored her memory. She would tell them that they were the only ones that could do it, the only ones that would listen. She would pick at the strings that held them close and isolate them, one by one- she would poke holes in the lining of their common womb and draw out the killing instinct in each.

She told herself it had to be done.

And, as she had so many nights before, she poured herself a drink and lay awake, wondering how Cid had ever slept.

_One down, four to go._

…

………..

…….

…

A/N: Thanks for reading~ the next chapter's already with my beta, and is roughly twice the size of this one. See you soon!


	18. Letter 8

_My dear Quistis,_

_Guess what I'm doing right now? Whatever you guessed, you'd be wrong- I'm baking bread! (and yes, before you ask, I have the fire extinguisher right next to me, and I'm monitoring the oven this time- I've got my chair pulled up and I'm keeping on eye on this letter and one eye on the oven door.) Who knew too much yeast could create such a fiery disaster??? So far, no monster-rising bread and no subsequent fires from dough on the oven coils…I wish you could have been there, it was like something straight out of a horror movie- it just kept rising and rising, engulfing the pan and then the oven door came off the hinges…I wound up beating the thing down with a broom! Zack, of course, thought the whole thing was wildly funny- I swear, there's nothing that scares this kid!_

_Ellone's coming up for a visit next week, and staying a whole seven days. I'm very excited to have her here, and so is Squall- he's going to pick her up from the boat himself. I think it'll be good for them to have some alone time. I'm anxious for Ellone to really get to spend some time for Zack, and I guess she's really looking forward to it, too, as she said she's got a wonderful present already picked out for him. Maybe you and Selphie will be able to drag the boys along for a visit? It would be wonderful to get everyone together again, if only for a day or two._

_Something's been bothering me lately after our last talk, and I hope you'll forgive me for bringing it up. This was years ago, mind you, when Squall and I were still 'stationed' there after the 3rd Sorceress War; you, Selphie and tore our way through almost four bottles of wine and six boxes of chocolates (I miss those days…what I would have given for a bottle of Cabernet while scrubbing Zack's latest 'artwork' off the walls yesterday!) and we were gabbing about nothing and everything, about our first boyfriends, our first times, everything. I can remember reminiscing about my summer with Seifer, about how he was so charismatic, so confident; an army brat that I knew (or hoped) would annoy the hell out of my father. We were joking about the awkwardness of boys, how they pretend to know everything (but really, know nothing!), and I, inspired by the wine no doubt, told the story about how Seifer told me he loved me after our first time together. I remember one minute, we were all laughing, and in the next, your smile sort of slipped off your face for a moment before you could recover it. (Don't you know, Quistis, I know when you're hurting? We all do, and it's not because you make it easy to tell, it's because we love you enough to look for it!) It's been bothering me for awhile now, and because I'm pregnant and high on hormones (you have to forgive me, there's a law somewhere that you have to forgive pregnant women for being nosey and brash, because we just can't help it!), I want to say something about it._

_When Seifer and I got together, we were just kids that were both mad at the world for different reasons. I was furious with my father and Seifer, well, Seifer was just angry at everything, wasn't he?_

_We had that one summer together- we pretended to play grown up where all we were really doing was playing angsty teenagers, and after that first time on the beach, when he told me he loved me and pledged himself as my knight, being an idiot myself, I believed that he could shield me from everything I wanted to forget. He said he'd protect me from anything- that we'd carve our names into the world if we wanted it. Of course, now, I have to snicker at how ridiculous that was- carve our names into the world? It was all we could do to **survive** in it! _

_The thing about Seifer is, I think he decided that if couldn't have the mundane, he wanted the superlative. He had a bad home life he never talked about even before he arrived at the orphanage, I think, because he seemed really angry at his father but wouldn't say why, and I think that really turned him around. He wanted to rise above all that, so badly, he decided he didn't want what everyone else had, what everyone else took for granted, he wanted **more**. He didn't want a girlfriend, he wanted a princess trapped in a dragon's tower. He didn't love me, he loved the **idea of me**, a damsel in distress he could rescue! And I, of course, was infatuated with the cocky and confident boy that told me he could make all my problems disappear. I have to laugh, now, and so should you! We were both idiots! _

_We love each other now, in our own way, and I'm glad for it, because we are much more genuine friends than we ever were lovers. It was so terrible to be enemies, for so long, to hold things against each other that were inevitable- it's so nice to be friends. When he helped Squall and I move to the Sea Cottage with Edea, we had a lot of time to talk on the ship, and I was glad for it- it was as if it took a war and a two sorceresses for us to really get each other._

_Quistis, it disappoints me that I have to be the one to point out how much Seifer cares for you. It'll never be in grand gestures, you know- he's out of those, and they meant so little in the end, didn't they? To him **and** to the world. After all, a prince can slay the dragon, he can take you down from your lonely tower, but it's what he does after that matters, isn't it? The slaying and the rescuing, that's the exciting part, it's in his hero DNA- he's practically compelled by testosterone and duty to do it, and when you get down to it, it's got so very little to do with **you**. It's after, if he stays, if he brings your flowers or asks about your day- that's the real stuff, right? _

_I never thought I'd see Seifer in jean cut-offs, holding a nail gun and grinning down at me from a rickety roof, but it made me happier than anything. He's **happy**, Quistis, he's **home**- and **you** gave him that…you let him forgive himself, when none of us were capable (or trying, really) to reach him._

_He runs home to you, did you know that? After every mission, every time, Xu told Squall he taps his foot and watches the door like a hawk during the debriefing. (although, to be fair, one third of it is probably wanting to get away from Xu!) He softens around you- you have to look for it, that small gap in his armor, but it's there; there's a lack of guarding in his gaze whenever he turns his eyes your way. For a boy that's been hurt so badly, it's quite something to have him take off that armor and let you see the scars, isn't it? That was how I felt about Squall, at least._

_Of course, being Quisty, you're sitting over there and wondering how in the heck it is I know all this. Because I watch people. I had to, especially traveling with you all those years ago- I had to look twice as hard to see the same things you all saw, run twice as fast to keep up. I thought, then, that if I could understand you, I could be like you…but a fish can understand a bird and never be able to wear its wings. _

_You know so much, Quistis, and are light years ahead of me in so many ways, in so many realms. But I think, in this, I can advise you- let him in. Open up your heart, and if he hurts you (**I'll kill him**), you'll be better for the pain. I know that, whatever happens between Squall and I, however this all ends, I wouldn't change anything. _

_I hope you won't be angry at me for bringing this up (I'm almost sure it's another law somewhere that you have to indulge a pregnant woman her many ridiculous whims and love her in spite of them), and that you'll talk to me again very soon, because I miss you! Just think about what I said, Quistis, and call me….soon!_

_Love,_

_Rinoa_


	19. Lies and Loyalties

A/N: Hello and welcome to another installment of G&G…thanks to all of you still reading. Not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I hope all of you enjoy it (you didn't really think I was going to make all of this easy on them, did you?) My apologies for any mistakes that I missed via spell-check and proofreading- my only excuse is that it is almost two in the morning and I am without my usual dose of iced coffee today. Thanks to my beta last chapter, sissyhiyah-you're the best!

Additional author rant: Quite frankly, I don't know how much longer I'll be posting on this site. Every single time I upload a chapter, it eats all of my punctuation, which results in a lot of cutting and pasting and editing nonsense that I'm getting really tired of. I'm keeping a lookout for somewhere else to host the story (deviantart only allows a certain number of words per chapter, which would create a LOT of work for me in dividing up my chapters)…so we'll see. In the meantime, though, I'm getting really frustrated…as punctuation is sort of necessary. (end rant).

Disclaimer: This is Squaresoft's sandbox. I'm just playing in it.

….

…

…

**Lies and Loyalties**

…

…

…

_Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you_

_Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new_

_Flashbacks to warm nights almost left behind_

_Suitcase of memories, time after-_

_Sometimes you picture me_

_I'm walking too far ahead_

_You're calling to me_

_I can't hear what you've said_

_You say, 'Go slow',_

_I fall behind._

_The second hand unwinds-_

_If you're lost you can look and you will find me_

_Time after time_

_If you fall I will catch you_

_I will be waiting_

_Time after time._

_-C.L. Time after Time_

…

…

….

Zell woke up with sand in his dreams and in his mouth. His head was heavy with lack of sleep, but from that slothful place there rose a sharpening awareness. They were still on the far outskirts of Timber, their stay having been extended by another week, and Zell could see the moonlight outside the thin vinyl skin of the tent, feel the hard ground beneath him, and-

_Someone was watching him._

He sat up in his sleeping bag, his hand curled into a fist, ready to confront-

Selphie, who stood at the opening of his tent, the moonlight behind her and a bottle of Fisherman's Wharf Whiskey balanced against her hip. From the loose smile on her lips and the amount already missing from the bottle, she already had quite a buzz going.

"Sel, whuttizzit?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. "D'we need t' move the site?"

"Couldn't sleep," said Selphie.

Zell rubbed at his eyes, taking away a fair amount of grit in the process. Why the fuck were they bunking by a huge sand dune, anyway? Hynedamned sand everywhere, even in cracks and crevices he'd rather not think about. "Why can'tcha sleep?"

His friend lifted a shoulder in response. "Dunno. Old nightmares, you know? Kept seeing Trabia Garden, all smashed up." She adjusted the bottle on her hip. "I was trying to comb through the wreckage, trying to find my old friends, but I kept finding you all instead…kept finding your faces underneath the wreck."

"Selph…." Began Zell, sitting up a little further in his sleeping bag.

"Can I come in?" asked Selphie.

He hesitated, and it surprised him. Selphie was his good friend, had been for years, but there was something off dull and intense about Selphie's normally vibrant gaze tonight, something sad and restless that scared him a little.

"Uh….yeah…"

She stepped further into the tent, and he could see that her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. "Irvine an' I broke up, y'know."

"You-"

"It was me," she said in a small voice that Zell almost didn't recognize. "Called it off on the comlink." She looked pale for a moment, and Zell feverently hoped she was not going to throw up in the tent, because his little brother had thrown up in his sleeping bag once, and no amount of washing ever quite go the stink out. The news of his friends' breakup, however, soon washed all though of tent-vomit from his mind.

"Sel, what-"

She smiled, and there were tears running down her cheeks now. "Lost each other a long time ago. And that's just it, idn't it? Going to lose everyone. That's what the dream means, right? Gonna lose each other."

"Of course we aren't." replied Zell. "We grew up together, Selphie, we fought together, hell, we'll probably die together-"

Selphie shook her head, still smiling that strange empty smile. "Oh, Zell," she said, in a way that made him feel like she'd thought he was just trying to make her feel better. The thing was, he though, he didn't think he was lying to her.

A breeze picked up outside, flapping at the tent, and Zell caught a glimpse of the cold night sky behind his friend, still pitch black and scattered with stars. "Come in, Selph…it's cold outside."

He paused. "What exactly happened with you and Irvine?" asked Zell, moving to make room for her in the small space as she ducked under the entrance of the tent, letting the flap slip closed behind her.

"Don't want t' talk about it. Just wanna have a drink with a friend." Selphie held out the bottle. "You'll have a drink with me, won't you, Zell?"

Reluctantly, he took the bottle from her, absently wondering where she had got the thing from. Still, one drink couldn't hurt. They had no other surveillance to run that night, and a little whiskey might chase away the chill a little.

"Yeah, sure, Selphie. Whatever you want."

"T' the Liberi Fatali, then," she slurred, raising an imaginary glass at him.

"Cheers," replied Zell, taking a healthy gulp from the bottle and enjoying the burning as it stretched fiery fingers down his throat.

"Can I stay here tonight, Zell?" she took the bottle back from him, taking a swig and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Don't wanna be alone…don't wanna dream anymore, you know?"

He hesitated. Selphie had always been reckless-it was part of her charm- but there was an undercurrent of something else in her demeanor tonight that set him on edge, something dark and restless and impatient that seemed to fill up the tent with its intensity, that seemed to overshadow his friend as she hunched over, the bottle dangling from her grasp.

"…I don't know if that's such a good idea, Selphie."

She laughed. "Zelly boy, since when has anything we've ever done in our lives been considered a _good idea_?"

She passed him the bottle, and he took it. "Good point," he said.

There was that smile again, as wide and empty as the Trabian plains as she raised the bottle again.

"Cheers."

….

…..

….

…

"….and as per clause 28.3 sub A in my contract, any condition which makes blood donation unsuitable for the sustained health of the individual will render contract null and void, so I will no longer be able to honor the contract, because of-"

"We are aware of your status," said Hojo, setting down his pen. "The happy fact revealed itself in your last blood test."

_My last blood test? But…_

Her brow furrowed, and Quistis deflated back into her seat. "You…know already?"

"Yes."

"So you know that under the contract that I'll no longer be able to donate."

"Not your blood, no," replied Hojo.

"What does…wait a minute." Quistis was staring at Hojo now. "To know this already, you would have had to test my blood _specifically_ for human chorionic gonadotropin. The hCG isn't a standard test, especially not for someone with my medical history. Unless, you-" She paused.

_Unless you _**expected**_ it._

_Kadowaki, her gaze hard. 'Quistis, have you been taking something for ovulation?'_

Quistis's mouth tightened. "I want my medical charts. **Now**."

Hojo's eyes narrowed. Of course, the specimen was a doctor herself, and would have some working knowledge of routine medical procedures.

This was becoming inconvenient.

"Those charts are no longer a matter of public record. They are property of Shinra Corp."

"The hell they are," snarled Quistis. "I'm entitled to view them. It was an addendum in my contract, and you damned well know it. Give me my medical charts."

"As you wish." Hojo went to a filing cabinet, quickly rifling through a stack of folders before plucking out a small stack of papers. He held them out to her now, smiling as she snatched them and began to scan the pages. "I highly doubt you'll find what you're looking for," replied Hojo.

"Because you didn't chart it, did you?" Quistis was standing now, the chair between them. She looked hard into his eyes. "_What else did you do to me?"_

Hojo folded his hands in front of him."As per your contract, Shinra wanted to check all organ functions. Per Kadowaki's findings, some organ function was normal post-event, some was not. The question in this particular case was whether or not some organ function could be stimulated with the correct dosages of the appropriate medications. You seem to have found an independent sperm donor, which is only mildly inconvenient, but the medications seem to have been effective."

Quistis's hands were shaking around the arm rest. "And you thought it prudent to administer said medications without my knowledge?"

Hojo smiled at her- this one was wide enough to bare his small white teeth and gave her the feeling of icicles shooting through her veins. "Shinra certainly apologizes for any inconvenience this has caused you. In fact, we can remedy the lnuisance today. Of course, I must admit we would prefer that you carry to term before presenting us with the sample, but we are willing to accept-"

The blow knocked Hojo into the counter, sending several glass vials flying to the floor in tinkling crashes of glass and fluids. Quistis's hands were in fists, her breathing labored as she stood over him. "It will be a cold day in hell before you lay your filthy hands on my child, do you understand me?"

Hojo removed his glasses, shaking out a few pieces of shattered glass out of the right lens and wiping at a splatter of blood that now poured from his broken nose. "I think you will find that we are well within our rights to demand a sample. After all, the specimen was obtained only through _our_ medications, _our_ efforts, and as is stated by that little _contract_ you are so fond of, Shinra has exclusive rights and entitlements to test developments that are the direct result of drug therapies administered and efforts-"

"Medications administered without my consent! Efforts enacted through no knowledge or acquiescence of mine!" spat Quistis. "On what legal basis are you entitled to _anything_?"

Hojo wiped a hand across his now bloody face. "As I've said **before**, if your condition is undesirable to you, I can harvest the sample today. You will be generously compensated for your inconvenience, of course, and Shinra Corp is willing to trade unlimited access to Draw sites in exchange for the fetus-"

Quistis held up the contract in front of him and ripped it down the middle, letting both halves fall to the ground. "You may _piss the fuck off_, is what you _may_ do. I'm _leaving_."

"Shinra has not released your contract," replied Hojo coldly.

"I'm releasing _myself_," she snapped, grabbing her bag and heading towards the door.

"I think you'll find that rather difficult. You are dealing with a well-funded corporation, Miss Trepe, with many resources at their disposal. Surely that has not escaped you."

Quistis turned at the doorway. "I think it's _you_ that will find it difficult to extract anything more from _me_, Hojo. You see, you're not screwing around with a criminal whose rights have been abandoned by his government, or some poor drunk you've plucked off the streets. I'm a rather public figure for the moment, I have powerful friends, too. The media used to tune itself to our comings and goings, and I think they'd still be interested in anything I have to say."

Hojo was looking at her with a quizzically inconvenienced expression, as if she were a stray specimen that had climbed out of her jar.

"Oh, I don't think I'll be able to take down Shinra…but I will be able to destroy _you_, you pluperfect asshole: your credibility, the medical ethics which Shinra has worked so hard to claim you possess. The powers that be don't care, as you've said, but the general public will. They're already stirred up because of that terrorist faction, aren't they? How many more news bulletins before they're lined up at your door, wanting your head?"

She took another step forward, pointing at him with one hand while shouldering her bag with the other. "I'll tell the truth about what kinds of things you do, what ways Shinra advances its science, what raw materials you've been gathering, the experiments you want to perform on a poor pregnant woman, and it won't be long before even Shinra decides it doesn't want to associate itself with such a loose public relations thread, no matter how many monsters you make them. How _does_ Shinra cut people loose, Hojo? An extended vacation? Do they let you keep the company insurance?"

Hojo lifted an eyebrow. "Would you like to provide a DNA sample of the father now, Miss Trepe, or shall we wait for the sample for the complete profile?"

Quistis looked hard into the obsidian eyes, trying to find a flicker of fear or anger and careful not to let anything on her own face show. But there was nothing in the dark depths, nothing but the steady shine of the overhead light, her own angry reflection, and that same sick curiosity. "If you ever come between me and my child, I'll kill you." Her eyes, normally the color of a beach-blue sky, had hardened into something glacial and tumultuous, and Hojo appreciated for the first time that she was a beautiful woman that had killed many, many people.

Without another look in his direction, she left.

Minutes later, Lucretia walked into the room to find Hojo with a hefty amount of gauze stuffed into his nasal cavities, having reset his broken nose with the aid of morphine and a tongue depressor. He was currently holding his glasses up to the light, trying to shake a final piece of glass loose from the frame.

"What happened?" she asked, horrified.

"The trial was successful," replied the scientist calmly, giving up on the glasses and picking up the tweezers. A sizeable amount of glass had embedded itself in the flesh of his right cheek, and he was impatient to have it out so that the wound could be thoroughly doused in peroxide. He was not keen on an infection.

Lucretia watched the doctor work calmly at his injury. She had been around Hojo long enough to know that he experienced few in the normal range of human emotions, and expressed them indirectly, the way a killing cancer often presents itself as fatigue or weight loss. The disparity was disconcerting, as though a tidal wave were crashing over one with the force of a rain drop.

Currently, Hojo was enraged- she could read it between the lines of his shoulders and the dark smolder of his scowl as he tapped gently at his glasses.

"But then why was she-" Lucretia frowned. "…you didn't tell her in advance, did you."

"It matters very little. Miss Trepe has terminated the contract."

Lucretia shook her head, a cold lump forming in her throat at the thought of what Hojo had done, and at the calmness with which he had done it. She choked the lump down. It would not be her first qualm in working with the scientist, and it would certainly not be her last.

"So the experiment is over," she said, feeling some measure of relief at the thought. "We'll proceed with the stem cell trials, then?"

"No," replied Hojo, picking the last of the glass shards out of his nose. "The original trial has simply been postponed."

"By how long?" asked Lucretia.

"By 6-7 months, give or take," replied Hojo, tossing his glasses into the waste bin as he exited the room.

Lucretia hesitated, then followed.

….

…..

..

It was official: Seifer Almasy was pretty sure he was as drunk as anyone had ever been or would be in the history of alcohol. It had started out as a simple bourbon and water at the Sealegs Lounge after he had finished tapping phones with Squall the Wonder Stoic.

Then, as he considered how much of an ass he had been to Quistis, there had been the scotch hi ball.

Next, he ruminated over Quistis, angry as hell with him and sitting alone with the great Serabin Glyphias at the lovely dark Estharian Opera…three Thundaga straights.

By the time he got around to obsessing over the last thing he'd said to Quistis before storming out the door, he was no longer sure what he was drinking and had forgotten the name of the bar.

Seifer set down his glass, disgusted with himself. Quistis should be back from her appointment by now…

He looked up from the counter suddenly, where he'd been trying to stack peanut shells higher than his glass with some measure of success before his fine motor skills had abandoned him. "This bar have a phone?"

The bartender, Ambrose or Amrose or something like it, whose main goal in life seemed to be to talk and shower as little as possible, gave him a surly look with the one ocular orbit obstructed by an ratty eye patch. "Local calls only."

"Just gimme the damned phone," he snarled. "An' a phonebook, while you're at it."

It took him only five minutes to find the number of the Esthar Hotel, given that the words seemed to want to blur and run off the pages with their numbers in tow. Once he had gotten the number and, with the failing dexterity of his fingers, a pen with which to punch said numbers in, he waited at the other end of the line for someone to pick up. If he was lucky, he could patch things up with Quistis, sober up, and spend the night in a nice hotel with Gaia's finest pair of legs wrapped around his waist.

"Esthar Hotel, how may I direct your call, please?"

"Quistis Trepe's room."

"One moment please."

There was a pause, and then, "I'm sorry, Miss Trepe has not checked into her room yet and….oh, I see here, the reservation was canceled earlier today. Perhaps you might inquire at-"

Seifer replaced the receiver and swore under his breath.

…..

…

…..

….

Quistis picked up her opera glasses and scanned the stage, skimming over the orchestra and appreciating the beautiful crystals in each of the five grand chandeliers and enjoying the cool, slippery feel of the dress against her skin. The golden silk was strapless and the flare of the bodice minimized the small bump of her belly, which was further concealed by her burgundy wrap.

Her golden silk gown was a well-deserved indulgence from her shopping in Esthar that day, one of many purchases acquired out of stress and spare time. After storming out of Shinra, she had been pleasantly surprised by a phone call from Serabin's aid, Ealeen, who brought the welcome news that though Serabin had been delayed at Shinra himself, he had sent both his personal plane and his pilot to attend to her every transportation need during the day. She'd chosen to fly to Esthar immediately, and, after a pleasant flight that had included a fancy flute of orange juice and a delicious cold shrimp cocktail, enjoyed walking around Esthar and securing the pretty new dress, some new stationary for Rinoa, and even a pair of Ruby dragonskin boots for Seifer, though he hardly deserved them. The shops had offered free shipping, and so she'd made out the shipping labels for the Sea Shack and to the Sea Cottage, welcoming the opportunity to not have to struggle with the large packages on the busy streets.

She'd also searched for something for Serabin, and after an hour of touring the shops, settled on a pair of Trabian made Grendel-skin gloves, the black leather smooth and supple, superbly crafted down to the hand stitching and the thin layer of snow lion fur for lining. She'd enjoyed a fantastic lunch at a small café along the boardwalk and had later changed into her gown at the same store she'd purchased the dress with the owner's permission. She'd put back her hair into a simple twist, only applying a swipe of lip gloss and running a quick brush through her hair, which was the only real primping she felt up to.

Though by all accounts she'd had a wonderful day, Quistis had not been able to shake the chill of worry that had seeped into her bones after her encounter with Hojo. Though the fare had been delicious, she had only picked at her lunch at Maramoso's Bistro, (a delicious salmon salad with cucumber drill dressing and feta cheese crumbles), and found herself staring out the window, her chin in her hand, her own worried expression reflected back at her.

What could she do if Hojo pursued the contract, really? And his question of the father…did he know? How _could_ he? And yet, that was not what unsettled her the most- she had pressed every inch of her strength and influence against the man, bored it into Hojo's thick skull, and he had simply stared back at her with no expression whatsoever on his face. What kind of a monster was he, really?

Quistis knew it was dangerous to underestimate Shinra's influence, and even more dangerous to underestimate Hojo's tenacity. How could she face both of them…alone as she was likely to be?

Quistis had found her seat in the Estharian opera house easily enough with the help of an usher, and had enjoyed watching the crowd gather as she waited for Serabin to arrive. Serabin had private balcony seats, which afforded Quistis an excellent view of the entire theater. She watched the flicker of multi-colored jewels at ladies' throats and ears in the half-dark and listened to the rustle of silk as the other theater patrons took their seats. Serabin arrived ten minutes later as the lights were flashing, looking somewhat irritated as he climbed the stairs, declining a program as he walked into their private balcony. His irritation quickly flashed into a smile as he saw her, and he drew her into an embrace immediately as she stood.

"You're late!" Quistis teased him, folding her arms despite her smile.

"And you're enchanting," he said, stepping back and grinning down at her.

"Ha. You're forgiven." She laughed. "What kept you?"

"Bloody paparazzi," muttered Serabin, adjusting his sleeve cuff. "They follow me like dogs since the presidential nomination."

They took their seats, and Quistis reached into her purse to present him with his gift.

"I thought these might be nice for when you have time for training," she said, as he opened the box.

Serabin pulled them on immediately and flexed his hands beneath the supple leather. "These are wonderful," he said. "But it's far too much."

Quistis smiled and shrugged. "It's the least I could do, for such wonderful seats."

"My pleasure. I'm so glad you could make it," replied Serabin, carefully folding the gloves and putting them into his pocket. "You're by far the best guest I've had so far."

The young blond laughed. "Now _that_ I don't believe. Wasn't it only last week that you had that Dolletian supermodel on your arm at the premiere of the new Stark play? What was her name again, Gwenessa Cadre?"

"As I said," Serabin said, kissing her hand, "The best company I've had by far."

Quistis rolled her eyes and picked up her opera glasses, scanning the hall. "It's a full house tonight."

"I'm not surprised," said Serabin, borrowing Quistis's program. "This is a really excellent rendition."

Quistis continued to scan the crowd with her opera glasses, which gave Serabin the opportunity to admire the subtly lit lines of her profile and the fire the chandeliers poured into her hair.

"The Pirates of Aembra," Quistis mused, setting down her glasses. "What's it about?"

Dismissing their attendant, Serabin turned back to her. "It's about two starcrossed lovers: Marose, a renegade pirate and traitor to the crown of Oeris, and Liara, crowned princess of Oeris, who falls in love with Marose. Together they attempt to journey to the fabled land Aembra, a legend of a pure paradise, in the hopes that they might be together there."

Quistis lifted an eyebrow. "Sounds doomed."

"Oh, it is," Serabin replied, grinning. "But there's some beauty in the futility."

When the lights dimmed, Quistis became so captivated by the story of the beautiful and tragic lovers that she did not feel Serabin's gaze on her, soft and intent in the darkness.

…..

…..

…

Seifer stared at the ceiling, watching it spin. At least, he thought it was the ceiling- sometime in the last hour, the ceiling and the floor seemed to have gotten mixed up, one folding into the other with a kind of lazy spiral that did terrible things to his stomach. He wanted to yell at the ceiling to stop fucking the floor so that he could find his hotel room, but he didn't especially relish the notion of being admitted overnight in a psych ward, which the bartender now wiping the glasses down would probably be only too happy to do.

He'd switched to coffee an hour ago, and was waiting for the effects to kick in so that he could find the floor and drag himself back to the hotel…wherever the hell that was. What city was he in, again?

"I'll have three fingers of cognac, neat." A light hand was on his arm suddenly, and Seifer tore his gaze away from the revolving ceiling-floor and focused on the voice next to him, which turned out to belong to a very beautiful, very blurry young woman.

"Am I disturbing you?" she asked. "Or may I buy you a drink?"

He blinked at the interruption, eventually distinguishing her as a division between the promiscuous floor and the slutty ceiling. A woman. A beautiful woman, at that. "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

She lifted an elegant shoulder. "Aren't these modern times? Can't a woman buy a man a drink?"

"I guess."

She smiled. "What'll it be, then?"

"Coffee. Black."

"Just coffee?"

He gripped his forehead. Fucking vertigo. "I've already tried everything else."

"So I saw. What's your name?" she said, and her voice sounded familiar. The alcohol-soaked organ that was previously his brain eventually extracted that her voice had been the one accompanying the piano for the past few hours. She had a nice voice, sweet and mournful and melodic, like a caged bird's song could be.

_An image of Quistis came to mind, wearing a blue sarong and washing dishes in front of the window, humming to herself, her voice melodic and sweet and a little off-key._

He dashed it away.

At the pause at being asked his name, the woman smiled. "That's all right. I don't need to know your name. In fact, I think I like you better without one." She drummed her delicate fingertips against the polished shellac of the bar. "You can call me Psyren. It's my stage name, anyway."

"It's fitting," he told her.

"Thank you," she said, smiling a very slight, coy smile that told him she was very used to getting compliments like those.

The coffee arrived in front of him, along with her drink, and she lifted her glass in his direction. "A toast."

"To what?"

She smiled. "To forgetting, of course. Why else do people come to a place like this?"

Seifer clinked his glass with hers and took a long drink.

_To forgetting…what a good idea._

…..

….

"Did you like the opera?" asked Serabin, draping Quistis's wrap around her shoulders.

"Oh yes!" replied Quistis, her eyes still glittering from the sad tale.. The culmination of the star-crossed lovers' story had set off the water works...she was still wiping at her eyes. "Couldn't you tell?"

"I'm afraid I've never been much of a specialist concerning the reasons for a woman's tears," replied Serabin, smiling at her and shrugging his shoulders a little. "Curse of my gender."

Quistis lifted an eyebrow. "You make a habit of making women cry, then?"

"Never deliberately, and never you, I hope," he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Shall we go?"

"Yes, I'm ready," she replied, tightening the wrap around her. "Where are we going?"

"To a late dinner at the Estharian Hotel. I thought we might forgo a taxi and enjoy the city lights, do you mind a quick walk?"

"Not at all."

Outside in the fresh air, Quistis took in the glittering lights of the city and felt sad for a moment, because she knew Seifer would not want her here, laughing with her friend and enjoying herself. He didn't want to spend time with her, but apparently he didn't want her to spend it with anyone else, either. Apparently, he just wanted her to be lonely and unhappy, sitting around and waiting for him to never come back. That thought made her angry, and it was in her anger and her gratitude that she turned to Serabin, linking her arm in his. "Thank you so much for taking me out tonight. It's been wonderful."

"The pleasure's all mine," he replied.

"Not _all_ yours," she teased, tightening her grip on his arm.

The Esthar Hotel was every bit as glamorous as she remembered, and Serabin, as a highly valued customer, had a table reserved far in the back. From the 16th floor, the restaurant provided an excellent view of the city.

Serabin set down his menu. "Would you care for a bottle of wine, Quistis?"

"Um. Iced tea, actually, would be great."

Serabin raised an eyebrow, but motioned for the waiter to bring their drinks. Dinner arrived shortly after, looking exquisite, but Quistis found herself moving the wonderful food around with a fork, and soon the waiter had taken their plates away.

Serabin was looking intently at her now. "Tell me, what has you so upset today?"

"I haven't been upset."

"Then you have been distracted," said Serabin patiently. "In someone like yourself, it amounts to the same thing."

Quistis hesitated. Serabin was a possible Estharian President, and had strong ties to Shinra as both a lobbyist organization and on a personal level, but he was a friend first, and once, he had been much more. The years had changed them, both of them- she was no longer the soldier she once was, and he had grown distant in ways she didn't understand, but she still found that after all the time had passed, she still cared for him and valued his friendship.

She drummed her fingertips on the tablecloth. "It's…well, a few weeks ago, I started getting sick. I thought I had the flu, but…it didn't pass. I was sick all the time. Selphie started joking about…well….and then I ran tests, over ten of them…" Quistis was aware that she was rambling, but found herself unable to stop. "I couldn't believe it. I went to see Kadowaki, and she ran some blood tests, and she told me…well, that I was pregnant."

An unreadable expression crossed Serabin's face for a moment, but it was quickly gone.

Quistis ran a hand through her hair, not noticing the change in her friend. "She then proceeded to recommend that I get rid it. She said there's never been a case of full-term pregnancy with a case like mine, or any pregnancy at all, really, and she said that there would most likely be terrible complications…"

"Does Seifer know about this?"

"…no," said Quistis quietly. "And I can't bring myself to tell him, or anyone else. But…I couldn't bring myself to do what Kadowaki asked, either. I haven't told anyone…except for you, now." She wrung her napkin in her lap. "I just…I don't know what to do. I've always known what to do, and now-"

Serabin reached out and took her hand. "This must be terribly difficult for you. These past weeks…."

Quistis blinked back tears and shook her head. "I went to Shinra for my appointment this month to tell them I could not longer honor the contract, and Hojo…he _knew _already. The bastard _knew_. He said...they would trade Garden exclusive rights to Draw sites, unlimited access, if I would give them the rights to the specimen. If I would…_sell them my child_. He kept calling it a specimen…like it was a _thing_. Hojo said…in the contract, they had the right to test any new developments in my body that were the direct result of drugs administered under their care, and...that….they could extract any tissue sample that they liked…"

Quistis twisted her napkins in her hands. "I bluffed him, told him that I would make his experiments public, but how could I scare him, really? Shinra has more money than anyone…they buy public favor like pocket candy…" Tears ran down her cheeks now, and she was too upset to be embarrassed at crying in front of Serabin in the middle of a beautiful four star restaurant. "I'm not going back there. I'm **not**. I don't care what Xu or anyone else…they'll have to drag me….I'll _die_ before I let those monsters touch my child!" She hiccupped.

Serabin leaned across the table, taking her hand. "Quistis-"

"He said…he said the…_specimen_ belonged to them, and they wanted the rights to test it." She hiccupped. "They would…_prefer_…that I carried it to term, but that they would accept the early termination as well. He offered to do it right away."

Serabin squeezed her hand. "And what did you say?"

Quistis looked up, her eyes blazing in spite of the tears. "I told him to piss off," she replied, "And I punched him in the face."

Serabin smiled. "Good girl," he soothed, petting her hair.

Quistis' angry expression was fading, melting into worry. "But what if he's right? What if somehow, legally…"

Serabin shook his head. "Don't worry a moment more about it. I'll speak to Hojo… _personally_." There was something in Serabin's expression that disquieted her, but it was quickly gone, and her friend's old reassuring smile had returned.

Quistis fingered the rim of her water glass. "Thank you, but I'm not sure how even you'll persuade him…"

Serabin smiled, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Don't worry a moment more about it. Trust me." He paused. "…_do_ you trust me, Quistis?"

"Of _course_ I do, but-"

"Quistis-" began Serabin, his hand on her cheek. She leaned into the gesture, wanting the comfort, wanting reassurance, wanting desperately to believe him that everything would be all right-

Movement in her peripheral vision made her glance up, and she turned her head just in time to be blinded by a flash of light.

From there, everything seemed to happen at once. Serabin pushed Quistis behind him, and grabbed ahold of a man's arm as he tried to run. Spinning him, Serabin picked him up easily by the neck and gazed into the man's eyes with a chilling calm. The man's camera swung at his side, dangling from his now limp hand. Serabin's thumb was pressed hard into the man's throat, his fingers grappled into the common carotid and the subclavian arteries. Quistis recognized the SeeD neutralization move- it was extremely painful for the recipient.

The candlelight that had once softened Serabin's gaze now seemed to highlight his expression in in an almost savage sharpness- for a moment, Quistis thought he was going to kill him. Serabin's face was normally decipherable by his soft expression, his calmness, his charm. In that moment, he looked like no one she recognized.

"You _vermin_ follow me everywhere." Said Serabin in a very calm voice that scared Quistis far more than his angry expression. "You are like rats, tunneling into every crack and crevice of this city. I tolerate your presence because I recognize your needling as the most basic expression of your nature; you know no other higher calling. You are puddles to be stepped over."

The man's shoes were hovering above the carpet now.

"Tonight, however, you have interrupted my dinner. You have offset the course of my evening with this lovely young woman. Your presence has traversed beyond exasperation- it has become intrusive." Serabin's fingers tightened around the man's throat. "I will not tolerate it."

"Serabin, don't, please, it's not worth it-" she began, placing her hand on his arm. Serabin's gaze seemed to soften as he looked down at her, his grip slackening on the paparazzo's neck.

The manager appeared behind them suddenly, gasping for breath and sweating profusely. Security trailed behind him. "Mr. Glyphias, I'm so sorry, he just slipped past the hostess station. It won't happen again-"

Serabin nodded curtly to the manager and set the photographer back on the ground, where he immediately began gasping for breath. Two well-muscled men took each of his arms and began to lead him out.

"Wait." said Serabin, bending to pick up the man's camera and slipping it around his neck. "Here. Take the picture. I hope it was worth the trouble you took to attain it."

Without another word, the men led the coughing and spluttering photographer away. Serabin's eyes were back on her now, and his expression bore no traces of the intensity it had housed only seconds before, only the calmness and kindness she was used to seeing in her friend when he looked at her. "Please excuse that interruption. Quistis, Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course," replied Quistis, as Serabin helped her to her seat. "It...startled me, that's all."

_You startled me._

She glanced behind her. "Perhaps we should leave…"

Serabin's tight expression melted into a smile. "But this calls for a celebration, of course!" He turned to the manager, who was wringing his hands anxiously. "Miss Trepe and I would like to see the dessert cart."

"Of course." Said the manager, and snapped his fingers. As if on cue, a waiter arrived immediately pushing a gleaming silver cart, each shelf bearing a different fancy dessert on delicate china with intricate gold filigree. Quistis had never seen anything so extravagant.

"Choose anything you'd like," said Serabin, once again taking his seat and draping his napkin across his lap, but not before casting a narrowed gaze at the exit. There were large wedges of cheesecake dripping with strawberry and chocolate toppings, fancy cakes with icing in every color and topped with elaborate sugar flowers, white chocolate bon bons wrapped in gold foil, and pies with wafer-thin crusts and large dollops of whipped cream.

"I don't know what to choose…all of it looks wonderful," remarked Quistis, her mouth watering. She was becoming increasingly aware that she hadn't eaten for most of the day, and had only picked at her wonderful dinner.

"Then we will have one of everything," Serabin told the waiter. "And a pot of tea right away, please, with milk and honey."

"Very good sir," said the waiter, placing one of each delectable looking desserts onto the table and hurrying to fetch the tea. Quistis and Serabin each chose a plate from the selection to begin with.

"Now," Serabin dipped his fork into a slice of cheese cake, holding it up as if in a toast. "To your happy news, and to Hojo's future endeavors in self-fornication."

Quistis speared a slice of chocolate and caramel cake, and clinked her fork with his. "To your appointment to the Estharian presidency, or the political arena, or wherever you endeavor to wind up!" she replied. "May you swim circles around the sharks!" She smiled at him, her first real smile all day.

Serabin caught his breath at the look on her face- it was a true, unguarded smile, an expression he had only seen once before, when they had toured the city of Esthar years ago. She had far too much wine with dinner and taken off her fancy shoes as she walked arm and arm with him through the city. She had leaned her head against his shoulder as they watched the passing crowds, and he had felt a quiet contentment in himself for the first time he could ever remember.

"Cheers." replied Serabin, linking his arm with hers and bringing the cheesecake to his mouth. Quistis did the same, laughing around her bite. The cake was moist and rich, and the caramel melted like a thick ribbon of butter on her tongue.

Hours later, Quistis sat back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. The two had sat chatting for hours, and finished the entire collection of desserts in front of them.

A pot of tea, a tray full of desserts, and a night out with someone who made her smile for a change.

It was, reflected Quistis, patting her stomach beneath the table cloth, exactly what they needed.

After dinner, the two walked arm and arm around Esthar, looking in the shop windows and talking about their old days as Instructors with some of their more interesting students. Quistis was halfway through a story about Zell and a particularly funny incident involving whipped cream, a bed sheet, and his t-board, when Serabin caught her in a yawn.

"You're tired," he said. "I'll take you home."

"Home?"

"Back to my house. I've a room already prepared for you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. "I insist."

She hesitated.

_"I had my chance to go to Galbadia three years ago. I didn't. Doesn't that mean anything?"_

_"Yeah. Maybe it means you made a big fat fucking mistake."_

"I accept," she said, beaming up at him.

…..

….

….

"-and then there was the bar manager with a piano so stuffed with coke it wouldn't play, and a full house to attend to. Had to drag the whole piano out back and vacuum it out- the piano player was on pins and needles all night. Ramon thought twice before dealing with shady Trabian piano dealers again, I can tell you."

Seifer chuckled. "I'll bet." They'd been talking for the past hour, she sharing stories of her colorful past in traveling with carnival folk and singing in the lowest of the dive bars Gaia had to offer, him listening and, little by little, separating the ceiling from the floor until he felt almost certain he could walk on it long enough to get back to his hotel.

A pause as she took a tip of her second drink.

"You've got a nice voice," he told her. "Thanks for the drink."

"My pleasure. We don't often get handsome strangers passing through, so I have to collect them while I can." She smiled at him, and he recognized the warmth in it.

"Collect?" he asked stupidly, taking a long drink of his coffee. There was some separation between the floor and the ceiling now, but not nearly enough to walk on.

"Yep. Some girls scrapbook or collect figurines. I happen to collect mysterious strangers and their sad and mysterious stories. It's as good a thing as any to collect, don't you agree? Especially in a place like this?"

The parts of Seifer that hadn't gotten laid in almost three weeks wanted very much to be collected. Granted, 2 weeks of that he had spent in and out on missions and she had been on sleepless rotations, and the third week, Quistis had been acting like some kind of Hyne-damned mime, walking around the house like a zombie.

"You're a thousand miles away, stranger," she said, laughing. "Another woman on your mind?"

Seifer took another sip of coffee. "Something like that. What the hell are you doing in a dive like this with a voice like that, anyway?"

She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "People come here to forget. So do I." She took another large sip of her drink. "I never wanted to be under the bright lights of an opera hall, anyway- my voice is better suited to the dark. Not all of us belong in the big bright world after all, don't you think?

_More than you know,_ he thought. "So, do you hit all your listeners up after your shows?"

"Only the handsome ones," she replied. "Besides," she said conspiratorially, leaning in, "It's two-thirty in the morning. Everyone else has gone home." She smiled at the look on his face. "Hadn't you noticed?

Actually, he hadn't.

Psyren was everything his life used to be about- spontaneity and reckless fun, and a kind of half-caring for everyone and everything around him that made transitions easy. Psyren's amnesiac lifestyle was very different from a house with perpetual plumbing problems, eating tuna fish sandwiches and watching Kri-Ball highlights before falling asleep on the couch at nine o' clock at night. Hell, he had caught himself using Helios to smooth over a patch of caulk in the wall just last week. What the hell had _happened_ to him?

The young woman was smiling at him. "You're a real space cadet, Mr. Mysterious Stranger. But I like those eyes of yours. Pretty, but hard, too…soldier's eyes." She reached out a hand to touch his cheek, and her palm was soft, not calloused and rough from whip leather friction. He struggled to remember which holochip he had equipped, but memory failed him.

The girl was smiling at him again. "Mmmmm. All that intensity, all that pain." The songstress tilted her pretty head, one of her dark locks slipping over her shoulder and curling around the tip of her breast. He found himself staring, the buzz of the alcohol an appropriate backdrop to his muddled thoughts.

He knew she was going to kiss him at almost the same time she did.

Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his, and she smelled good, like gardenias and dark spices, a rich and heady mixture that intoxicated almost as much as her hands running slowly up his legs. He closed his eyes, letting her inch her supple little body off the chair and against his as she deepened the kiss, her soft tongue gliding around the edge of his mouth and parting his lips.

His brain swam, and he thought about Quistis, alone with the old Galbadian Headmaster, Quistis, her eyes filling with hurt in the small kitchen as he stalked past her, raspberries and salt air, and a pair of pale eyes and a softly smiling mouth, and she was twirling by the water, _holding out her hands to him-_

He jerked away from her.

The lounge singer opened her eyes, a small smile on her face, his collar still clutched in her first. "Is something wrong?"

"No…nothing."

"Still miles away, huh? Are you staying somewhere close?" she asked, and there was no mistaking the invitation in her eyes. Recognizing his hesitation, she leaned closer.

"Whoever she is, I can make you forget all about her tonight."

…

…..

….

Serabin's house was a towering structure located in the thick of the city. She watched his profile as he unlocked the door.

_Why couldn't it have been you, Serabin?_ She thought to herself. _You would never have broken my heart, would you? You would have been happy about the news, and we could be planning a nursery now..._

Serabin's house consisted of vaulted ceilings and a collection of dark wood furniture and oil paintings- its simplicity seemed to suit him. Taking her coat, Serabin led her through a kitchen of grey marble counters and gleaming copper pots, up the stairs to the west wing of the sprawling house. Serabin had indeed already prepared a room in anticipation of her acceptance, and a fresh nightgown had been already laid out on the bed. A vase of lilacs sat on the bedside table, along with an open book. Quistis picked it up. "The Once and Future King," she read. She paused.

"This is _your_ room, isn't it?"

"I thought you'd be most comfortable here. It has the best mattress, after all."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her. "It's no trouble. I've taken to sleeping in the study, as of late, when I'm able to sleep at all. There are fresh sheets on the bed, and I hope the nightgown is to your liking. I had my secretary pick out something for you, and I confess I'm not familiar with Ealeen's tastes. Please," he said, gesturing to the nightgown. "Change, and I'll have a pot of tea brought up."

She slipped into the plain silken nightgown, luxurious in its texture and modest enough in its cut to suit her. She slipped beneath the cool, clean sheets, and had just picked up the book from the nightstand when there was a soft knock at the door. "Come in."

Serabin appeared in the doorway, holding a tea tray. He'd taken off his dinner jacket, and wore his simple white dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked over his dark slacks. His hair hung loose now, and Quistis marveled at the difference it had on him. He looked more relaxed, less serious. She had often told him she preferred the change.

"A butler, too?" asked Quistis, raising an eyebrow. "You're a man of many talents, Serabin."

"I gave Remilda the night off." He handed her a mug of warm tea and smiled at her, noticing the open volume in her lap. "That book was always my favorite as a boy."

"I loved it, too, " said Quistis, smiling. "But it was so sad, wasn't it? I remember rereading it and rereading it, always hoping that in the end, it would end happier for Arthur and the others. Especially Arthur."

"Hic Iacet Arthurus Rex Quondam Rexque Futurus," said Serabin, settling himself next to Quistis and propping himself up against a pillow.

"Here lies Arthur, the once and future king," translated Quistis. "Did you really think he would return, though?"

"As a child, I always hoped so. It disheartened me that so much was left unsolved at the end of the book…I always thought Arthur would certainly return to right it. And now? The more cynical part of me would have me believe it was simply a testament to Arthur's memory, meant to extract his shining metal through all his misery and mistakes, so like us all."

Quistis set down the book. "Must all heroes be tragic? And intended for tragedy?"

Serabin's smile was distant. "I think it is the nature of the heroic to be forever lonely. Such is the price of placing all other interests above your own, is it not?"

"Mmm. You know what I think?" asked Quistis.

"Hm?"

"I think Arthur does return one day, a wiser man, and rules a wiser kingdom. Maybe he even finds someone to love him, someone far more devoted than Guinevere."

Serabin was looking at her now, a soft, intent look that was not unfamiliar, and it was full of possibilities.

_Perhaps_, she thought, _but not this way, she thought, not with anger and fear. Not with another still in her heart and that man's child inside of her. She cared for him far more than that._

Turning her head away from him, Quistis drank the last of her tea and set it on the bedside table. She turned to Serabin again, her head propped in her hand. "Would you read to me?"

Serabin smiled down at her. "As you wish. Shall I begin at the beginning?"

"No, the beginning is the bottom of the hill. No momentum. Start farther in."

Serabin picked up the book and opened it to a dog-eared page, and the room was at once filled with the dark, warm timbre of his voice. Quistis closed her eyes against the softness of the sound.

"It was the most marvelous room that he had ever been in. There was a real corkindrill hanging from the rafters, very life-like and horrible with glass eyes and scaly tail stretched out behind it. When its master came into the room it winked one eye in salutation, although it was stuffed. There were thousands of brown books in leather bindings, some chained to the book-shelves and others propped against each other as if they had had too much to drink and did not really trust themselves. These gave out a smell of must and solid brownness which was most secure. Then there were stuffed birds, popinjays, and maggot-pies and kingfishers, and peacocks with all their feathers but two, and tiny birds like beetles, and a reputed phoenix which smelt of incense and cinnamon. It could not have been a real phoenix, because there is only one of these at a time."

Serabin paused in his reading to look down at her. She had cuddled up to him as he read and was now fast asleep, her hand warm against his side, the other splayed across her belly.

She dreamed of the ocean, and of a baby, smiling, with eyes as deep and endless as the sea.

Serabin lay awake and watched her sleep.

….

…

…

…

He could hear the tide rolling in, smell the mist and the moss on the rocks and the chill from the sand rising in the cooling dark. He could feel her skin against his, sweaty and warm, her breasts crushed against his chest, her folded legs slick against his thighs. He slid his hands up her back, tangled his hands in that long curtain of hair and pulled her head back, exposing the long white column of her throat to the moonlight, running his lips and tongue over he neck, her shoulder, running his other hand up and down her side and feeling the swell of her breast, the dip of her waist, the hardness of her hip bone as it ground into him. Her hands were everywhere; in his hair, gripping his shoulder- he could feel the sharp skim of her nails as she drew them up his back and threw back her head, and she was lovely, so fucking lovely, he didn't want it to end, and yet, if it didn't end soon, he was going to die-

"Seifer…" she whispered, and suddenly, he found her mouth in the darkness, kissing her hard, his teeth skimming her lips, his hand gripping the back of her neck, and there was that heat, _her_ heat, her scent, and he was drowning in it-

Drowning-

Shit, he was drowning-

_Prayingmantis_**FUCK**_-_

Seifer woke up in his hotel room, with a mouthful of water- naked, alone, and sopping wet, sprawled on the shower floor. Apparently, after returning (alone) to the hotel room last night, he had attempted to shower away his aching head (and erection) and had wound up passing out in the bathtub.

Great. Fucking _great._

Using the shower curtain to pull himself to his feet, he sagged against the cold tile as he remembered the end of his evening, which was much less pleasant than his dream.

She had been sitting there, warm and soft and inviting, her soft skin and her tanzanite eyes, but it was wrong, all horribly fucking wrong. The curve of her smile was off by a few degrees, and the eyes, the color of the eyes was off-

_"I can make you forget all about her tonight..."_

_Quistis was probably a few miles away, fucking Glyphias on a bed of gil and rose petals, and here he was, with a warm and willing woman in front of him, one that wasn't going to bitch about him about calling a plumber, or act like a fucking mime and expect him to figure out her feelings. He opened his mouth to answer and-_

"I don't want to forget," he muttered the answer aloud, freezing and hung over as hell, pounding his fist into the wall.

_Idiot_. Instead of waking up in the embrace of a warm and willing woman, he had a headache that could shatter his skull and blue balls the size of Doomtrain. Fucking conscience.

**This** was how the good guys lived? Hell. No wonder Puberty Boy was so fucking cranky all the time.

"Moron," he told himself, unsure of what exactly he was berating himself for. It was times like these that he missed the old Seifer Almasy. Sure, that version of himself had been a narcissistic, self-indulgent prick, but at least he'd gotten laid occasionally. He'd had moments of excitement, and he'd certainly never done home maintenance with Hyperion. Dirk Strife didn't kill people, he didn't stay out all night drinking, and apparently he didn't get laid, either.

There were times he really _hated_ Dirk Strife, the limp prick.

Seifer stared at the bathroom mirror. The holochip was still working, feebly, his hair flickered from long and dark to blonde and clipped, his eyes from grey to green. Snatching the chip off of his wrist, he flushed it down the toilet.

"LIVE." Fujin had said to him. It had been the last thing they'd talked about before she died. He felt a flash of anger at Fujin then, a kind of directionless fury that while she had wanted him to live, she hadn't told him how to do it.

Just who the fuck was he, anyway? Fallen war villain? Redeemed hero? Which one was he supposed to be, anyway? A dead man? A living ghost? A hero or a villain, which was it?

Fujin, Edea, they all wanted him to live, to move on, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Take a dead man's name and drape it over all of his scars, play house by the sea and forget he'd been a weak and witless puppet for a sadistic witch intent on colliding time?

_"The person for whom you carry your guilt is dead. Leave his shadows in the past-"_

_"But which is the dream, child? The life you lead, or the life that chases you in your sleep?"_

_"We both know what you are…you're a natural. The only job you can do, you're already doing-"_

_"May you be as Helios, a guiding light for men-"_

_"The skeleton boy…would he like to come out and play, I wonder?"_

_"LIVE. PROMISE."_

_"I believe in you. I have always believed in you-"_

He blinked, realizing that somewhere in the course of his thoughts, he'd sunk his fist into the mirror. Small bits of broken glass rained down into the sink, and blood was starting to ooze out onto the cracked glass from his knuckles.

_Fuck. _

Wrapping his hand in a hotel towel, Seifer promptly crawled back into bed, curled up like a giant (still drunk) shrimp, and rolled out of bed at noon. Wincing as the water hit his hand, he took a proper shower and ordered room service. He sent Xu coded faxes of his latest findings through the portable machine Ceres had set him up with, and only kicked it twice in the process. Getting dressed, he walked around Esthar to clear his head while he waited for his pick-up, eating a double serving of nachos and drinking two bloody marys at a local diner to try to ease the heavy ache of his hangover. He also bought a huge bouquet of white lilies at a local flower stand, their perfume keeping him company on a park bench as he waited for his contact to arrive.

While he waited, he planned. He would go home, give Quistis the flowers assuming they survived the journey, apologize for being a jackass, and hopefully, Hyne willing (_please_), get laid, and try to make some sense of the mess going on in his head.

Then he saw the newspaper stand.

…

…

….

….

Quistis woke up to the smell of coffee and eggs, nestled comfortably in a sea of down comforter and 650 count Centrian Cotton sheets. The sheets on the other side of the bed were undisturbed, but Serabin's form was indented in the comforter. She smiled. Always a gentleman.

She found a robe waiting on a chair for her, and tying it securely around her waist, she went downstairs.

Instead of Serabin, however, she found a slim, dark-haired woman who was probably thirty years her senior. She was wearing a simple dark housedress and an apron, and looked older but sharp for her age. "Good morning, Miss Trepe," she said, giving her a small bow, "I am Remilda, Mr. Glyphias's housekeeper."

"Hello, Remilda," replied Quisits. "It's nice to meet you. Is Serabin-"

The slight woman bowed again. "Unavoidable and unexpected business. He sends his regrets. In the meantime, I am to relay his message to stay as long as you like, and to make you anything you desire for breakfast." The matronly woman folded her hands. "What shall it be? Eggs benedict, waffles…Mr. Glyphias informs me your are partial to pancakes, I could whip up a batch of blueberry and cream cheese pancakes with fresh maple syrup, if you like?"

"That would be wonderful,if it's not too much trouble." replied Quistis, taking a seat at the large marble countertop.

"A glass of juice?" asked Remilda. "Tomato, orange, apple?"

"Orange juice, please," replied Quistis, and within seconds, a tall glass had been placed in front of her. Quistis took a sip- it tasted freshly squeezed. Why was she surprised?

"Would you prefer to sit at the dining table?" asked the housekeeper, gesturing towards a very long, very ornate oak table complete with candelabra and a beautiful flower arrangement of orchids, lilacs, and lilies…all of her favorite flowers. It seemed terribly long and elegant and lonely at the large table…and Quistis had been feeling lonely enough these days without the additional solitude.

"Does Serabin often take his meals there?"

"Only when he has guests. Usually, he keeps me company at the island, here, while I prepare his meals."

"Then I will as well, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Serabin had those flowers brought in his morning," said Remilda, gathering the arrangement from the table and placing it in front of her on the counter so that she could smell their lovely perfume. "I believe there's a card there for you, somewhere."

Taking a sip of her orange juice, Quistis located and opened the card hidden within the lovely bouquet.

_My dear Quistis,_

_Thank you for the wonderful evening. I can't remember when I've had a better time- except, of course, than that time we spent in Esthar together all those years ago. Unfortunately, unavoidable business has called me away this morning, and I'm afraid I will be gone for the duration of the day and part of next. Please, allow Remilda to fix you whatever you'd like (she's an excellent cook), and feel free to stay as long as you wish- the house is yours. I have a full library to occupy your time, and I have informed my chauffeur, Tonin, that he is to escort you wherever you desire. Should you need to depart, however, Remilda can arrange for my private helicopter to transport you. Please believe, however, that nothing would make me happier than to return to find you here. _

_If you desire anything, please inform Remilda- she has resource enough to attend to your every wish (in addition to being my housekeeper, she is also something of an assistant)._

_Quistis, I hope you remember our conversation last night, and that you believe me when I say I will take care of Shinra. I am even now attending to it. When I asked you if you trusted me (before we were so rudely interrupted), I believe you were about to say 'yes'._

_Please believe me when I say, also, that I shall do all I can to earn, and to maintain that trust. I do not wish for you to worry._

_You are familiar now with my direct line. Do not hesitate to call me, for any reason, and should you require or desire it, my home shall always be yours as well. Nothing would make me happier for you (and eventually, the baby) to stay here, with me._

_I remain your devoted friend,_

_Serabin_

Quistis sighed, neatly folding up the handwritten note and tucking it into the pocket of her bathrobe. Remilda had already started the pancakes, and the warm, homey scent of browning batter made her stomach rumble. The two women chatted easily as her breakfast cooked, Remilda being as adept at conversation as she apparently was at cooking and cleaning, and afterward, Quistis spent part of the day in Serabin's study, tracing her hands along the hundreds of leather-bound spines and curling up in his big leather chair, staring out the window between chapters. She arranged for Serabin's private jet to escort her back the next day, and spend the day walking the streets, reading Serabin's old books, and buying a few gifts for her generous host (as well as a few maternity items). She considered it a kind of vacation- in a day, she would have to go back to the real world, which was cold and complicated and not at all like the wonderful books in Serabin's study, in which people had adventures and thoughts and always which were always wonderful, and always resolved.

The Estharian streets outside of Serabin's gates were lively- Quistis watched the vendors push their carts and the human traffic come and go, chattering animatedly.

Something buzzed in her pocket, and Quistis realized that she had slipped her communicator off of her dresser into the robe. She brought it to her ear.

"This is Quistis."

"Trepe, what the fuck did you do?!" Quistis held the phone away from her ear, wincing at Xu's less-than-dulcet tones. "I get a notice this morning from the Shinra Science Division with the notice that they're terminating our leasing rights agreements on every single one of the sites, owing to a violation of the contract."

At Quistis's silence, Xu's fury seemed to triple. "Well?"

"Well, what?" asked Quistis calmly, absently tracing patterns against the softly swelling skin of her belly.

"Well, what the _fuck_ happened?"

They hadn't told her? "Shinra wanted more materials for testing. I refused."

"They've been bloodletting you for weeks," snapped her friend. "Surely one more hunk of tissue couldn't make that much difference."

Anger swelled in Quistis, anger that had been festering at her friend from the moment Xu had sabotaged her with the contracts in the first place. It crawled out of that place that had for so long taken up the better portion of her expressions, the 'don't make trouble place', and exploded full-force, carried by her fury at Hojo. "If it's no big deal, why not ship yourself to Shinra and strap yourself down in one of their chairs, and let that swine Hojo leer over you like a zoo animal?"

"If they had wanted _me_, I would have. I don't understand why now, of all the fucking times, you have to-"

"I don't care if you understand or not! I'm _done_!" shouted Quistis, gripping the phone with enough force to make the plastic covering groan. "You're going to have to find some other sacrificial maiden-"

"Sacrificial maiden my ass, you were asked to do one simple thing for this institution-"

"You _asked_ me?" replied Quistis, seething. "You sent me in blind with no advanced notice, no warning, no-"

"-and it pales in comparison to the other shit you've done over the years, without being asked-"

"-don't you dare confuse the work I've done as a mercenary with this shit errand you contracted me into-" retorted Quistis, dimly aware that some of Seifer's language was rubbing off on her.

"I wasn't aware," replied Xu nastily, "That your dedication to this place had been reduced to the point of _favors_. Or that you now required handling with kid gloves."

Cold fury washed through Quistis. "Tell you what, Xu. Since my _dedication_ is lacking, **you** can be Garden's new prized pig. It's easy, no phenomenal anomaly, really, no miracle, just like I've been trying to tell you all along! Just stock up on spells, walk outside, and _blow your fucking veins to kingdom come!_"

"Quistis, at least explain what the hell-"

"I'm not returning to Shinra, not for any reason, ever. I'm done." Replied Quistis. "And if you didn't owe me a warning, then I certainly don't owe you an explanation. Goodbye, Xu."

With that, Quistis shut off the communicator, removed the batteries, and threw the rest of it down Serabin's state-of-the-art garbage disposal, listening to the crunch and crackle of the plastic and the wiring with no small amount of satisfaction.

She spent the rest of the day in Serabin's vast library, combing through old stories and wondering how her own was going to resolve itself, putting off the moment when she knew she would have to return home.

…..

…

….

The Shinra Science Division had no formal hours- the lights were always on, and there was always a pot of coffee brewing somewhere within the lab. In sector C, Gast and Hojo often worked well into the night, gathering print-out, running gels, harvesting samples, and generally ignoring the other's existence.

The two men had been working for over 34 hours straight when the flashing light on the grid made Gast glance up from his coffee and his notes.

"Alarm in Sector G. Shall I call security?"

"No need." Hojo glared up at the tall figure partially illuminated in the doorway. "The breach is right here."

It was Serabin Glyphias's form darkening the doorway. His normally elegant appearance was disheveled- his silver hair had come out of its pony tail and draped wildly down his back. He was holding something behind him, but it was too dark to make out.

As Serabin stepped forward, his green eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and Gast had to remind himself that the effect it was simply a result of the prolonged Mako exposure.

"You will destroy all reports and samples relevant to Quistis Trepe."

"What?" said Hojo.

"I won't ask you again." Without looking, Serabin kicked over a table of test tubes, which shattered.

Hojo got to his feet. "You come into my laboratory at this hour, threatening me, demanding data to which you have no right? You have destroyed valuable equipment…_unacceptable_!"

Serabin walked forward and picked him up as if he weighed nothing, pinning him to the wall by his neck and sending several sheaths of papers and test tubes flying. "You have upset her. This _**I**_ find u_nacceptable_."

Hojo met the man's gaze across the arm keeping him aloft."Gghhhhtnnnn…what are you…._talking_ about…"

"Quistis Trepe. Wrack your formidable brains and I am confident it will come to you."

Hojo's eyes narrowed. "Her blood and whatever _thing_ is inside of her belong to the Shinra corporation-" he began, although, with his neck compressed, it sounded more like a garbled babble than a coherent sentence.

"You own nothing." He leaned in, closer, a twisted sneer on his face. "Shinra _rents_ the world and its resources, for the time being, and you are its humble parasite. You understand nothing."

Hojo struggled, gasping for breath. "You _need_ me, you idiot."

Serabin tilted his head, a nasty smile on his face. "Do I?"

Gast's hand hovered over the emergency call button.

Serabin adjusted his grip on the doctor's neck, squeezing more tightly still. Hojo's legs now kicked feebly in the air.

Gast moved to stop him, but Serabin simply extended the item in his hand. "Stay back, Dr. Gast. I do not wish for you to get involved."

The thing in Serabin's hand now came into full view then: it was a longsword at least five feet in length, its wicked edge winking at them in the light. Serabin wielded the blade as easily as if it were nothing more than a matchstick.

Hojo also shook his head at Gast, holding up a hand for him to stay where he was.

"Without me...the treatment stops..." gasped Hojo. "You need me."

The young man lifted a shoulder. "For now, perhaps."

As Hojo began to turn a mottled purple, Gast reflected that between the broken nose and this near-asphixiation, the doctor was having somewhat of a poor week concerning subject feedback. He was only half-ashamed of his thoughts.

"You will renew the Garden contract concerning Draw point use." Said Serabin.

Hojo nodded.

"I don't believe you." Serabin sneered down at him, increasing the weight on Hojo's throat. "But listen closely, because I very much want **you** to believe **me**. From this moment, for every tear you make her cry, I will squeeze an equivalent amount of marrow from your bones. Even an insect understands self-preservation, doesn't it?"

When Hojo nodded, Serabin released him, and the scientist sagged limply to the ground, clutching at his throat and gasping for breath.

"Good evening to you, Gast. I apologize for the late hour."

Without further words, Serabin presented them with his back, stepping over the broken door as if it were a perfectly normal way to exit a room.

Gast got up, helping Hojo to his feet. "You can no longer control him, Hojo." Said Gast quietly. "This has gone far enough. End the trial."

Hojo rubbed his neck as he got to his feet. "I will tell you when it has gone far enough. He will do nothing- he needs us."

"Yes. For now," said Gast grimly, echoing Serabin's words.

…..

….

…..

…..

"Maybe you'll think twice about those Jelleye now," Quistis told Styx, gently dabbing a swab soaked in vinegar onto the dog's swollen nose. Usually, the Jelleye were most common on the Abadon Plains, but Quistis supposed it was a testament to the current shifting currents that they had shown up here as well. The dog was lucky that the monster he'd chosen to chase through the shallow surf was a juvenile- an adult would have done much more damage.

Styx whimpered in response, his tail tucked between his legs as he endured her ministrations. She'd stitched up his snout here the Jelleye's barb had torn through the skin, and, after the vinegar, intended to ease the sting, she applied a thick coat of triple antibiotic paste around the wound. She would have given anything to have her healing magic back in times like these, but contented herself with what she could do rather than lamenting what she couldn't.

Cerberus was watching the process with some canine disdain, as if he could not quite believe he'd propagated such a dense creature.

Taking a critical look at her work, Quistis sat back in her chair. "There, all finished. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Styx thumped his tail on the floor good-naturedly, the indignities of home-surgery already forgotten. Smiling, Quistis gave him a treat from the biscuit tin on the counter, and Cerberus one as well, because he had been supportive (if not superior-looking) throughout the process.

Quistis heard the screen door slam shut. "Seifer?" she asked, getting to her feet. It couldn't be Rajin, as he had just set off for a four-day excursion at sea…unless he had forgotten something.

The young man in question stomped into the kitchen, looking both muddy and murderous as he slammed a folded newspaper down onto the counter.

Quistis found a mix of emotions rise at seeing him: happiness, that he was back, anger at their last conversation, dread at the talk that loomed ahead of them….

"Mind telling me what the fuck this is?"

Quistis glanced down at the paper: THE ESTHAR SUN.

She leaned over, frowning. "Esthar industry showing marked improvement in-"

"Open it up." he cut her off, seething.

"Seifer, what-"

"Just open it up!"

Giving him a strange look, Quistis opened the newspaper, her eyes widening as she took in a picture of herself and Serabin at the Esthar Inn. Her eyes were closed and his hand was on her hair and cheek in what looked like an affectionate caress.

"GALBADIAN POLITICS IN BED WITH BALAMB GARDEN?"

Quistis blinked. "Seifer, this is-"

The young man's gaze fairly glittered with fury. "What is it about him, anyway? Is it the money, the fame? Does he have a 12 inch dick, what the fuck is it?"

"Seifer, this isn't what it looks-"

"What?" he snarled. "You're trying to tell me that isn't **you**-" He jammed his finger down with enough force to tear the paper. "And that isn't Serabin fucking Glyphias?"

"It's completely innocent!" Exasperated, Quistis set the paper down. "I was talking to him about…I've been _trying_ to tell **you**-"

"Tell me what, exactly? That you've been out screwing the ex-Galbadian Headmaster every chance you got? That you're done slumming it and you're ready to fuck your way up the political ladder? Well, don't let _me_ stop you!"

Quistis' cheeks were beginning to heat as well as she jumped to her feet. "If you'd just calm down and listen to me, I'd be able to tell you! I was upset, and Serabin was just trying to help-"

"And doing a bang up job of it too, from the looks of it," replied Seifer nastily, filling up a glass of water from the sink before turning to face her as she approached him. "Did he help you out of your clothes, too?"

They were nearly toe to toe now- she could feel the heat from his breath wash over her cheeks. Not for the first time, she loathed the very real gap in their height because she couldn't stare him in the eye without having to look up. "Well, you're never here to do it! In fact, you're never here for anything!" she shot back, gritting her teeth. "In fact, when was the last time you laid a hand on me? You certainly don't seem to want me anymore, so what do you care if I fucked him, or if I didn't?"

"I DON'T!" Seifer hurled the glass- it shattered against the opposite wall. Quistis winced, but she didn't back down from him.

Silence stretched between them, cold and thick and threatening. Both of them were breathing hard, glaring daggers at the other.

Quistis looked down and realized that one hand was splayed over her stomach, shielding the secret from her anger and his. She wasn't going to tell him now, wasn't about to throw it out there with anger and resentment. It wasn't bad news...shouldn't be bad news. She refused to tell him like this.

"Fuck this shit." he said. "Let me know if you come up with anything to say that's not a bunch of half-assed lying crap."

To Quistis's own fury, she found her eyes filling with tears. _Damnit, not now, of all the times…_

"I'll try to come up with something that you'll believe the next time you happen to pass through," she replied, her voice as stable as she could make it.

"You know what, don't even bother," he replied, storming out of the room. "I'm fucking done."

The screen door slammed behind him, and she could hear the dogs barking again.

Quistis stood and seethed after him, her fists balled at her side. The motorcycle's engine revved and roared- the sound of him pulling away was a shriek of rubber and a blare of muffler that trailed into the silence. She seemed to melt into the chair in front of her and let her head fall into her hands- tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

_You should have told him._

_If you told him, he would have left sooner._


	20. Letter 9

Hello again my friend,

As I write this, I'm sitting at the beach under an umbrella watching Zack fish. Squall made him the pole the last time he was home, and I swear he hasn't put it down since. (Well, maybe to sleep!) Right now he's knee deep in a hole he's dug and is filling it with water, pail by plastic pail. Apparently it's a hole for all the fish he catches. So far, he's caught a lot of seaweed, something plastic of undetermined origin, and has nearly hooked the dog, but thankfully, no jellyfish! (Yet.) The sun's warm, though, and my lemonade is cold. Am I making you jealous? Do you want to visit terribly now? Is my plan working?

I'm sad to say that our neighbors, the Fairs, are moving. Alia came by yesterday to visit and gave me the news. They're one of only four sets of neighbors on the island, and they're my favorites- they positively dote on Zack, and Alia's told me more than once that Zack is the child they always wanted but could never have. Remember that beautiful rocking chair with the seashells carved into the wood? Elac made it by hand. Apparently he's taken a job with Shinra in someplace called Gongaga, one of those new towns that's sprung up around the project construction. I had to bite my tongue at the mention of Shinra, but apparently it's a great opportunity for Elac. I'm going to miss them both, and I know Zack is too.

Squall will be home in a few weeks, and I guess Ellone is coming to visit this time, too. It will be nice for Zack to see his Auntie, and I know he misses his father. I think this time Squall is going to take _Celes and Daenen_ back with him. They'll live in the medical wing with Kadowaki and begin to receive basic training along with their regular education. I still think they're far too young to go (Squall and I fought about it), but in the end, their magic is something they can't ever escape, and something that they must learn to control...for everyone's sake, foremost their own. I'm going to miss them very much...you'll look after them for me, won't you? Garden is a very big place to be lost in, in more ways than one. I think you understand that better than anyone.

But onto other news before I start to cry 're very kind to ask after my little writing experiment- it's almost finished! I can't wait for you to see it. I'm looking at a little publishing firm in Galbadia- Selphie recommended it to me. Apparently Selphie used them to publish her work (who could forget 'Your Guide to Homemade Explosives'?). It feels almost dishonest to sign my name under the title, though...the work very nearly wrote itself.

I miss you, my dear friend. I hope to hear from you again soon.

Love always,

Rinoa

(and Zack, too!)


	21. Surprises

AN: What the hell was I thinking with this story? I can't seem to leave this thing alone, but finishing it seems nearly impossible as well. For fun, I opened the document the other day, and this is what came out. The song Rinoa's singing is 'King and Lionheart' by Of Monsters and Men...it's a great song with a great music video that I thought was appropriate for obvious reasons. And as for Quistis's new get-up, think Ivan Vanko from Iron Man 2. Thanks to all who are still following. As long as there are people out there who want to read this story, I promise I'll try to finish it. Also, if there's anyone out there that wouldn't mind being a beta, I'd be more than grateful. I do read over a 'finished' chapter several times, but I don't always catch all mistakes.

….

…

..

.

Quistis spent the next few weeks in a kind of daze, wandering through her day without really looking at anything and barely remembering her conversations with others. Most mornings, she rolled directly out of bed and lurched headfirst into the toilet, then spent the rest of the day nibbling saltine crackers and sipping club soda in the lab, re-reading the same paragraphs over and over again.

She found herself picking up the phone several times to call him, but she had always replaced the receiver. What could she say? Moreover, what could he? He had made it abundantly clear he didn't trust her, and his absence over the last few months had stung her more than she could put into words. What would he say if she asked him why he'd been back so little?

Maybe the problem wasn't the questions themselves. Maybe the problem was that she didn't want to know any of the answers. And if she was afraid of what they had become, well, what hope was there for him?

What could she say, really, with that mistrust between them? More than once, she imagined revealing her news to him only to have him ask whose it was, words she knew she could never forgive him for. The feeling those imaginary conversations evoked was enough to make her roll away from the phone each night, her hands balled into fists and angry tears standing in her eyes. She refused to let any fall, however. Quistis knew as a soldier to acknowledge wounds only made them take longer to heal.

After almost a month of solid misery, of spending her days hunched over in the bathroom and every free moment with her head out of the toilet feeling sorry for herself, her daily sickness seemed to lift. She began to grow tired of self-pity and to seek out the company of others. It was in Quistis' nature to survive, if not to flourish- she was her mother's daughter, after all.

She began accepting Selphie's invitations to lunch and accompanying Zell on his morning jogs around the Quad. Irvine usually stopped by her room every other evening to relax, draping his long legs across her couch, catching popcorn in his mouth and making her laugh. Often, he brought a movie tucked under his arm and the two usually chatted into the evening, drinking tea and laughing at the latest B-rated disaster that Laguna Loire always seemed to manage guest-starring in. Xu was conspicuously absent, and Quistis knew that with as stubborn as they both were, that absence was likely to continue for awhile. She missed her friend, but she wasn't quite ready to forgive Xu for feeding her to the sharks. There was also the fact that if Xu knew she was pregnant, she would by rule be kicked out of Garden, and for now, she needed a place to stay. Fortunately, Kadowaki was keeping her mouth shut...for now.

Even Squall had stopped by her room to take her to dinner last week. They'd stopped at the Wharf, eating stone crabs over newspapers with wooden mallets, bare hands slippery with butter, chatting until close. While they ate, Squall mentioned that Rinoa would be in Balamb with Zack next week, and that they were both looking forward to seeing her. Squall had also mentioned wanting to take on a smaller role at the Garden, now that Rinoa was entering her second trimester and Zack was growing so quickly. Xu had begun picking out prospective candidates, and Quistis remembered a few from her old classes as they discussed their potential. Quistis privately wondered at Squall's ability to stay in the background of things, but maybe that was what all of them really wanted- a place away from the front lines for a change. Whether or not they could learn to live that way was a different matter entirely.

Squall was still rough around the edges, socially, but Quistis was impressed with how far he'd progressed. Years ago, he'd been a virtually mute emo kid with a silly fur jacket and a big chip on his shoulder, and here he was now, husband, father, and even the kind of friend that took his more pathetic friends out to dinner. If Squall could be a father, reasoned Quistis, why couldn't she be a mother?

She ignored the niggling voice in her head that said Rinoa had something to do with it and checked out every book in the local Balamb library on parenting, making notes on a separate piece of paper as she read. Quistis had approached her career as a soldier tactically- she knew no other way to function. So far, she'd learned about swaddling, SIDs, and the advantages of breast feeding vs. formula, and whether or not to let them sleep on their stomachs. She had yet to tackle which kinds of cribs were best to buy, or at what age babies started to eat solid food, but figured that 5 more months would be enough to acquire all necessary child-rearing equipment and to do the necessary research to plan for the child's first five years. She supposed Rinoa would be amused at her tactical plan to child-rearing, but it was how she approached everything else, and she didn't know how to stop now.

At four months, Quistis' stomach was now growing harder and slightly distended, and soon, she knew, it was going to be impossible to hide. For now her white lab coat shrouded her like a pale tent, but Quistis knew that eventually she would have to tell the others...or tell them she'd swallowed a beach ball.

Quistis had no idea why it was so hard to tell her news- despite her situation, she was happy about the baby, and often found herself doodling possible names in the margins of her anatomy texts. Would it be a boy? A girl? Would she be a good mother? The only thing she found she knew for certain was that she was not going to abandon this child, not for anyone or anything. She remembered Rinoa's letters about Zack, about the wonder of loving someone so much so soon that you had never met before. At the time, she had been baffled at the idea, but now, she found she understood it perfectly. It the span of time that it had taken Kadowaki to reveal the news to her, she had gone from Quistis Trepe to something else, something more, someone who was willing to die to protect the perfect stranger that grew inside her.

Her child. She traced the alien curve of her belly and smiled.

All her life Quistis Trepe had been a practical person, one grounded in what was rather than what she wished it to be. Concerning her future, she had always held a pragmatic view that leaned a little towards the pessimistic. But now, she found, after her brief childhood, after two wars and several heartbreaks, she had emerged as something different. Like the others, she had changed.

She had no cause to think that this child would survive, and no reason to hope it would be healthy if it did. She had no reason to think she'd make a good mother, or to rationalize that everything was going to work out for the best. And yet, for the first time in Quistis' jaded life, she dared to embrace an emotion she'd long ago forsaken as childish and impractical.

It burned in her breast, scaring her and thrilling her, filling her with a light that terrified as it illuminated, but she hoped just the same.

…..

….

…

..

.

Serabin sat by himself in the study, the room illuminated by the lamps of the city that cast long, thin strips of pale light onto the oriental rugs.

A book lay open in his lap and an ice pack lay across his arm at Remilda's insistence, to reduce the swelling that had flared up around the Materia sphere again. All the ice pack was doing, however, was dripping down his arm. Remilda had gone home for the night long ago, leaving the large townhouse empty of her usual bustling sounds and inquiries. After living for so many years amongst the constant noise of Garden, Serabin found he missed the noise...the distractions...the layer of thought and sensation over his own troubling thoughts.

He looked at the pages of his book on the Lunar Cry analysis, staring but not actually seeing any of the words. A large fire crackled in front of him (also at Remilda's insistence), but he was still cold.

He was alone, and not alone.

The voices were returning.

They came like whispers from the fire; in fact, they almost seemed a part of the pops and hisses from the logs. They rose and spoke to him like old ghosts...like old friends forsaken.

They had spoken to him since he was a child, since he could remember, really, murmuring in his ears just before he fell asleep, whispering to him when he hid from Matron Pilkas in the old sycamore tree at the Eldas Children's Orphanage... talking to him through the gloom of those long and solitary days.

Sometimes they asked questions- other times, there was news of hurts, of scars, of changes- the voices male and female, young and old, and sometimes, a voice that was neither male nor female, but loud and insistent, a mix of pitches all balled into one that spoke of happiness and pain and of a 'WE' Serabin did not understand. He could not remember ever being afraid of the voices- they had simply always been there, as familiar as limbs.

They were the Nowheres, the voices that came from the cracks and crevices in his attention, and they kept him company during those early days at the orphanage when he was longing for parents he could now no longer remember.

He had been alone as long as he could remember. The other children had avoided him- no one wanted to play with the boy who talked to shadows. He could not remember really missing their company- their petty squabbles and temporary loyalties, their jeers and insults. They had seemed a world away to him, even then. He was not like them. They were not like him. They did not understand.

He remembered telling Matron Pilkas about the conversations, early on, when she asked who he was talking to one day in the garden. He remembered her old- sun-pruned face tightening up in the familiar sneer of disapproval all the children came to be familiar with, her bony fingers pinching his cheek hard enough to leave a red mark.

"Ridiculous boy! What family would take you in, with such nonsense about voices in your head? If you persist, you'll be in an institution, in your very own rubber room!"

-after that, he told Matron Pilkas nothing.

After that, he was a Good Little Boy that made his bed and ate his vegetables and did not talk to the Nowheres anymore- in fact, he talked to no one at all. The immaculately dressed and polite little boy had made an impression on all couples that came, and he was adopted by one of the most influential senators in Dollet, who later moved to Esthar on a rare grant of relocation.

Esthar had seemed so big to him, a gleaming, face-paced paradise of strangers. At the Glyphius mansion with its tall, cold and empty rooms and long silences, he was that same Good Little Boy. He made his bed, ate his vegetables, and he did not speak unless spoken to. This unnatural coldness did not bother his adopted parents in the slightest, so long as he smiled in the photographs and behaved himself at the diplomatic dinners. He had enrolled at Galbadian Garden when he was 12 years old, transferring to the SeeD program four years later. He studied hard, worked harder, and studied the Ancient magics in his leisure. He found friends in fellow comrades and instructors. In time, the voices had fallen into a silence so complete it was easy to pretend that they had been some obscure part of his childhood, as faded and removed as dreams.

Until now.

They had begun again at Shinra...as if they had never left at all.

Floating in the fluid-filled tank with only the silence of the lab and his own thoughts, the whispers had stirred. During the treatments, they had strengthened from murmurs into full-fledged voices, and now, they crackled in his ears like bad static as he leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his temples.

_"-aren't listening-"_

"...why aren't you listening? Have you forgotten?"

-the book he'd been reading fell to the floor in a heap of sprawling pages, rustling like a bird's beating wing. Slowly, he bent to pick it up, wincing as the materia in his arm throbbed with the action.

"_-'s been a long time, little one-"_

Serabin drained the rest of his wine and squinted, but it did not lessen the pounding. What had begun as a tapping in his head had grown into an insistent throbbing, and now knife-sharp stabs were clouding his vision, swimming with spots of light and color and sound, and the thunder of voices was rolling back again-

_"-hurts, draining-"  
"wanted to see her again, one last time, will you tell her-"  
"-was a little boy then, remembering the-"  
"-worried about my mother, she was real sad-"_

"Stop it," he hissed.

The pain was getting worse, and his arm was tingling, burning-

-No, his arm was engulfed**, it was bubbling, the skin popping open around the sphere and blood bursting from the wound-**

_"-didn't mean to do those bad things-"  
"-didn't want to go, but it was warm here, safe-"  
"-can't find him, do you know where he is?"  
"-you've forgotten the words-"_

He tried to stagger up, away-

_"-where is my little boy? Where did he go? He was just beside me-"_

-and as he staggered to his feet he heard the wine glass shatter, a bright and sharp and far away sound-  
_  
"-have to help, draining-"  
"-feel their pain, all my children...hurting..."_

-he felt his knees give and something warm and wet spurt onto his arm, felt his skull strike the floor like some distant bell.

_"-where is my little boy have to help was warm here didn't mean to just beside me my children leaving-" _

Serabin laid his skull back down on the wooden floor and let the voices wash over him, his eyes squeezed shut. After a time, they quieted to a dull murmur, like the throbbing in his arm. Serabin cracked an eye open, his vision blurring.

"_Where is my little boy? Have you seen him?"_

How much time had passed? Days? Hours? He closed his hand into a fist, feeling the burn around the wound, but the pain was far away.

**I am going crazy...**

As his vision faded, he heard Remilda scream as her feet came into view, dropping the morning groceries, and then there was nothing, nothing at all, no voices and no pain, and his last thought was that he was glad of the silence.

…..

...

….

…

..

.

He slept like an angel, black hair curling at the nape of his neck, his head resting on her arm and his breaths short and warm against her breast. She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead and rocked back in the chair. It was still the beginning of spring, and the air carried a chill. She'd wrapped them both up in an old quilt of Edea's, and told him all his favorite stories until he fell asleep. Beyond the porch, the waves, sprinkled with starlight, rolled in.

She liked the music of the sea. It had a rhythm, a predictability that hammered like a heartbeat against the rocks. So much of the world was chaos, anarchy, and though parts of her relished in that aspect of it, the mother in her craved dependability- if not for herself, then for her children. But tonight, the music of the water brought her no comfort.

Squall would be there at the end of the week, and though she knew his arrival wasn't for days, she caught herself watching the horizon more than once for the silhouette of the White SeeD ship.

With Zack's warm form nestled against hers and her unborn baby fluttering inside her, Rinoa closed her eyes and tried to focus on the warmth of the quilt. Softly, she sang to them.

"And in the winter night sky ships are sailing,  
Looking down on these bright blue city lights.  
And they won't wait, and they won't wait, and they won't wait.  
We're here to stay, we're here to stay, we're here to stay."

Howling ghosts they reappear  
In mountains that are stacked with fear  
But you're a king and I'm a lionheart.  
A lionheart."

Zack nestled close to her in his sleep, unconsciously comforted by her voice. Rinoa stared out at the water, hugging Zack closer to her chest. The flicker of wave and starlight beyond the crest of the dunes. Across that water, she told herself, Squall was waiting.

But across the ocean, across time, something else was waiting, too.

She shut her eyes.

_Just a little longer...let me keep them just a little longer...please..._

"And as the world comes to an end  
I'll be here to hold your hand  
'Cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart.  
….a lionheart."

…..

….

…

..

.

Though he would have liked to avoid the man as much as possible, their mutual project and shared workspace ensured that Gast ran into Hojo at least once a day.

That day's encounter transpired as the head scientist was collecting his mail. One particular envelope held his interest- an inter-office memo from another lab.

"How is Subject 16C?"

"Serabin? He is improving," replied Gast. "I've removed the spheres, for now."

"I've reanalyzed the results in our rodent test subjects, and relative to weight, I suspect the concentrations were too high by about .57KJ," said Hojo, tossing away an envelope without opening it. "I'll recalibrate the concentrations, and we'll re-implant once the swelling goes down. It's a minor setback."

For Serabin Glyphius, who had needed 15 stitches to close the gash in his arm, Gast privately thought that the miscalculation in Materia concentration had been more than a minor setback, but kept his thoughts to himself as he opened his mail.

Gast frowned. "This is a memo from Hollander from Project G. He's requesting an update on the glycolysis results concerning Specimen 24777-A. According to this memo, it's the second request he's sent in the last month."

In Gast's mind, Hojo's lack of response was adequate proof of guilt.

Gast's eyes narrowed. "Lest you forget, Hollander had the same access to 24777-A years ago, before we transported the specimen here. He's used the samples, too, you've seen the results-"

"Those 'things' are not results." The doctor jerked his head, as if physically shaking off the idea of Hollister's vastly inferior experiments. "Soon, Hollander will be a mere memory at this place, and you know it. Shinra is not pleased with his results, with half of a success and most of a failure."

"Be that as it may, this request will be filed," said Gast, waving the paper, "And it will come to light eventually that we have not been disclosing our findings with the other sections, with the other projects, that we have not been maximizing the potential of this new discovery by limiting our findings to our department only-"

"If Hollister wants the results, he can come to the lab and get them. I am not his errand boy." replied Hojo. "The preparations for the conference are finished, anticipating a more successful implantation of the new materia samples in 16C," added Hojo, setting a folder on his desk as he passed. The door slid shut behind him.

"You are two of a kind, you and Hollister." Gast muttered angrily. "There is an Ancient in our midst, a discovery that contains not only a lost culture, but the key to preserving a dying race, and all you and Hollander can think about is the military advancements, of personal distinctions and self-advancement-" The doctor trailed off as he realized he was speaking aloud to an empty room. It was an increasing occurrence, lately.

Grabbing the memo and a file labeled "Glycolysis Analysis: Specimen 2477-A," Gast exited the lab. Hollander's section was located on a lower level of the building, and by the time the elevator doors opened, Gast's frustration with Hojo had dissipated. Gast was not a man that clung to anger- his predominant emotions were mostly those of caring and curiosity- and he did not like to dwell on upsetting matters long. Working in close quarters with men like Hollander and Hojo meant that Gast accumulated and released a substantial amount of frustration during day to day activities.

The doors ahead read "PROJECT G" in large block letters. Below it was a smaller sign that read 'TESTING IN PROGRESS-NO FOOD OR DRINK PAST THIS POINT.' Swiping his keycard through the security terminal, Gast walked inside.

For those expecting a sterile laboratory environment with bubbling beakers and blinking machines, the first room provided a bit of a shock. Carpeting had been put down on the cold tile floors, and two small cots had been bolted to the wall on either side of the room. Motion cameras swiveled their mechanical necks to face him as he stepped into the small area. The overall impression of the room was cold and sterile and unremarkable, until you noticed the occupants.

Two children sat close to one another on the floor, enraptured over a book held by none other than Serabin Glyphias, who was reading aloud to them. A large bandage was wrapped around the arm draped across his knee, and his still-oozing wound was beginning to bleed through the gauze again. Serabin did not look up at Gast's entrance, but continued reading.

"You see, one gets confused with Time, when it is like that. All one's tenses get muddled, for one thing. If you know what is going to happen to people, and not what has happened to them, it makes it difficult to prevent it happening, if you don't want it to have happened, if you see what I mean? Like drawing in a mirror."

"What's he mean, like drawing in a mirror?" interrupted one of the children, a raven-haired boy with startling blue eyes.

"Well, have you ever stood in front of a mirror?" Serabin asked the boy.

"Yes."

"Well, everything's backwards, isn't it? Your right side is your left, and your left your right. It's hard to know what's what, isn't it, with your directions mixed up? You'd have to make everything backwards, draw backwards, to make it the same as it is outside of the mirror. That would be difficult, wouldn't it?"

The boys nodded.

"Well, time is the same way. It doesn't have the same rules, so it's difficult to see things clearly when you try to look through it from where you are."

"Is is different for everyone, then? Time, I mean?" asked the other boy, his knees drawn up to his chest, looking thoughtful beyond his few years.

"Yes," said Serabin simply. "Some people have a lot of time, while others have very little. For some people, time moves very quickly, while for others, things seem take a very long while."

"Nicely put," said Gast, smiling, making both boys look up.

Serabin looked up also, his unchanging expression indicating that he had been aware of the doctor's presence for some time. "What brings you here today, Dr. Gast?"

"I could ask you the same question," replied the doctor.

"These two were in the med-bay for blood draws, so I thought I'd accompany them back."

Sure enough, each boy sported a small band aid in the crook of his elbow.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better," said Gast.

"Much, thank you." Serabin handed the book to the raven-haired boy, getting to his feet. "I became aware of this project through Hojo some time ago, but I was curious to see it for myself."

"Hojo told you about the project?"

"Inadvertently, I'm sure," replied the Ex-SeeD, flexing his injured arm.

"And your thoughts on it?"

"As I am not a scientist, I'm sure they are irrelevant," said Serabin. His tone was deceptively light.

"Mister Glyphias?" asked the other child; a small, brunette boy with metal-blue eyes. "Will you come back again and read to us sometime?"

"I'll try," replied the former SeeD, patting the boy on the head. "In the meantime, you can keep the book."

"Thanks." The child smiled and returned to the other boy's side. They looked too young to be able to read independently, but seemed to be enjoying the pictures all the same.

Serabin, however, was frowning. A few strands of the boy's hair had come loose when he'd patted the child on the head- among them a stark white strand that stood out from the rest.

"May I?" asked Gast.

Wordlessly, Serabin handed over the strands, and Gast clamped them in his clipboard. The children, engrossed in the book, noticed nothing.

A young woman came out from the main lab, pocketing a set of syringes. "Dr. Gast," she said, looking startled. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Only this," said Gast, handing her the file. "See that Hollander receives this report, won't you? He'll know what it is."

"Of course."

"I should leave as well," said Serabin. "Thank you, Margia, for allowing me to stay with the boys."

The assistant smiled at him with genuine warmth. "Of course, Serabin. Come back any time."

The two men found themselves the sole occupants of the elevator. Since the altercation with Hojo a few weeks ago, Gast had seen very little of Serabin. Though he probably should have, he did not feel particularly uneasy in the man's presence, assuming correctly that Serabin's animosity was entirely directed at Hojo.

"With your permission, I'll sign myself out of Shinra's care."

"Certainly," replied Gast. "If you are feeling better, Miss Crescent can take your vitals and supply with you some ointment and bandages before you go. Some aspirin and a topical NSAID for the pain and swelling. We will try re-implantation in three weeks, if you are still amenable."

"I am."

"I would understand, of course, if you no longer wished to continue the experiment," added Gast.

"And I appreciate your concern, but I would like to see things through," replied the young man.

"It was kind of you, giving them the book."

"They have no other toys," replied Serabin.

"They are not always at the lab," said Gast. "They have homes, mothers, to return to."

"But not fathers?"

At Gast's silence, Serabin's eyes narrowed. "They are still children, whatever else they are while they are here." There was an icy vein in the young man's tone now, an ominous undercurrent beneath those ever-present manners.

Gast studied the look in the young man's eyes- Mako eyes were difficult to read- too bright, too cold. "You will not be unhappy, I think, when your collaborations with Shinra have ended?"

Serabin's gaze remained on the elevator door. "You are not wrong. I'll admit it surprises me that you are in a place like this, Dr. Gast. You seem to be concerned with science's capabilities for improving the quality of life, rather than exploiting it."

It occurred to Gast in that moment how very much of Serabin was contained behind the rigid soldier's disciplined he carried, from his expressions to his bearing to the things he thought about Shinra Corp. Always immaculately groomed, always polite and calm and composed, there seemed to be a darker current contained within the young man, a kind of constant tension that Gast had never noticed before.

And in that moment, though he had worked closely with the young man over the course of the last year, he wondered that he knew him at all...if anyone did.

The doctor chose his next words carefully. "Here, at Shinra, there are equipment and other resources that would not otherwise be available to me, and advancements I would be able to make nowhere else."

"I see," said Serabin, looking down at him now with those uncanny Mako eyes, bright and alive and terribly cold. "So, like Hojo, the ends justify the means?"

"You must believe in some of that," replied Gast, somewhat defensively. "You are here yourself."

"As a willing participant, yes," said Serabin. "The same, sadly, can not be said for the majority of Shinra's subjects, dead or alive, can it?"

"Progress demands sacrifice, the sacrifices of few benefiting the many," replied Gast. "Anyone who says differently is fooling themselves. As a soldier, I should think you would be intimately acquainted with such a notion."

"How interesting that you think the principals of science and war should be weighed on the same scales."

"Are they not the same in several respects?" asked Dr. Gast, as Serabin stepped off the elevator.

The former SeeD now looked him in the eye. "No. And I don't think you really believe that, either. If you did, your job here would be much easier, wouldn't it?"

The doctor had no response.

"Good day, Dr. Gast."

Dr. Gast rode up six extra floors before remembering to get off the elevator.

…...

….

…

..

.

Quistis stared in wonderment at the tiny mass of black and white on the monitor, at the flicker of its two-dimensional organs within the surrounding darkness of the screen. The gel was cold on her belly, and her hand grasped at the crinkly paper on the table as she sat up for a better look. She wished for a moment that it was someone's hand that she was holding instead of the stainless steel table, but she dismissed it. Rinoa was an ocean away, and besides, her friend still had no idea what was going on. Still, it would have been nice to have a friendly face beside her, instead of an empty chair.

As Kadowaki had no equipment specifically for her condition, Quistis now went to a small private clinic on a few blocks away from the sea. The doctor was young and very kind, and did not wear the thin veneer of disapproval Quistis thought she caught on Kadowaki's face every time she looked at her. The relationship between the two women had been strained ever since the discovery of the baby.

"Ah, here it is." said the doctor.

The distorted thump of the heartbeat seemed to fill up the room.

"Would you like to know the sex?" asked the doctor kindly, grinning at the look of wonder on her face.

Quistis leaned in, squinting at the screen. "I…does everything look all right? Is it okay? The heart? Normal growth, normal dev-"

"Yes, everything looks fine. Normal. You can see the heart here, beating very healthy, and there's-"

"Normal. That's all I need to know," she said, smiling. "Just as long as it's okay."

The doctor smiled. "I can print out a few of the pictures for you, for you to show the proud father, if you like?"

At the mention of the father, Quistis's smile dimmed.

"I'm sorry," said the doctor quickly, flushing with embarrassment. "I thought, the ring-"

Quistis glanced down at the gold and silver band. She really needed to take it off, but the weight had grown comforting.

"No, it's all right. I know of quite a few people who would really like to see those, actually, and I'd love a copy for the baby book." She'd bought the photo album a week ago, the cover a shade of neutral yellow with little baby chocobos stuck to the front. The pages inside had a glossy laminate covering, perfect for pressing little scraps of papers, photos, even a lock of hair from a first haircut or a congratulatory card. Although Quistis was an aspiring doctor with an intern's meager salary, she already had a small collection of baby things in a small box in her closet, tucked away from the eyes of her visitors. Her secret collection was growing so quickly, she was running out of room to put her coats. She was beginning to feel like a gerbil hoarding nuts. Worse, she was beginning to _feel_ nuts.

Quistis had already begun the hunt for a suitable apartment in Balamb, but was finding it a more daunting task than she could have anticipated. She had a list of addresses in her purse, and was planning to have a light lunch at the Wharf and go apartment hunting in the afternoon. So far, her housing excursions had met with little success, and it all had to do with the baby's room. Quistis had imagined a bright little room with wide windows, bright rugs, and room enough for a rocking chair, and so far, had only found cramped little bedrooms, and the only one with a window had been overlooking the fish market. But Quistis was not deterred; she would find a suitable place this afternoon, she was sure of it.

Her day was blessedly full to keep her mind off things; she had three more places to look at, and there was a consignment store she wanted to see for baby clothes. As part of her day out, she was also planning to treat herself to a giant plate of waffles at the cafe down the street. She also needed to call Serabin, and thank him for the flowers.

Since her visit to Esthar, he had sent her a bouquet of different flowers every week to her room Garden, always with a small personal card attached that Quistis knew he did not really have time to write. This week, it was a large bouquet of Estharian lilies that Quistis felt compelled to lean over and smell every time she walked by. Serabin had again mentioned his offer of Quistis coming to live with him in Esthar, but Quistis knew she could not take him up on that offer. She was already wary of depending too much on her friend...or anyone else. After all, nothing lasted forever, did it? Her current situation was proof of that.

Still, it would be nice to call him today, thank him for the flowers and tell him about the ultrasound, and have someone on the other end of the line that would at least pretend to care.

Still smiling from her appointment, Quistis tucked her ultrasound photos into her purse and walked out in the sunshine and fresh air, a spring in her step. She did not notice the young man in the blue uniform slip into the clinic behind her.

…...

….

…

..

.

"Hello, this is the office of Serabin Glyphias, how may I help you?"

"I..yes, may I speak with Serabin, please?" Quistis silently thanked the waiter as he set down a platter of strawberry waffles in front of her. The light from the little cafe window was warm on her arm.

"Who may I tell him is calling?"

"Quistis Trepe."

"One moment, please, Miss Trepe. I'll patch you through to his private line."

"If he's busy-" began Quistis.

"Not at all, Miss Trepe. Mr. Glyphias has requested that all your calls be patched through to his private line, regardless of the hour." Quistis heard the smile in the woman's voice.

Quistis listened to a brief burst of airy elevator music, and then the ringing sound of the call transfer. Dipping her fork into the whipped cream mountain that topped the waffle, she snuck a quick bite.

"Quistis. I'm happy you've called." A beat. "Nothing's wrong, is it?"

"No, no, I'm fine. We're both fine." _Strange, being a 'we'. "_I just wanted to thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"I'm happy you enjoyed them."

"You don't have to send-"

"I know I don't."

Unable to resist any longer, Quistis broke a square of her waffle off and dipped it in the warm puddle of syrup surrounding her plate. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Quistis could imagine him in his office, his long, lanky form reclining in his desk chair, feet up on the desk. "Not at all. I was hoping for a distraction, actually."

Quistis swallowed before she spoke again. "What, bureaucracy isn't the mile-a-minute lifestyle you were hoping for?"

A sigh. "...I'm starting to miss being shot at, actually."

She smiled. "Did you want me to hire an assassin? An early birthday gift?"

"How thoughtful. Make it a sniper, would you? I want windows to make me nervous."

She laughed, and he laughed with her.

_Hyne, it felt good to laugh for a change._

…..

….

…

..

.

If you asked Zell, having Leviathan junctioned was a bit like having a dryer sheet stuck to your skull. Besides the increased vitality and the advantages that came with having a demi-god following your around, however, the trade-off to cerebral static cling was that the sea serpent sensed people approaching faster than you did.

"Hello Irvne," said the young martial artist, setting down his book on combat techniques. Irvine stood alongside the quad bench, but did not sit.

If his friend was surprised, he didn't show it. "Zell." The young man's normally warm, jovial voice was flat and cold. "I think you know what I'm gonna ask you."

In truth, Zell had been dreading seeing Irvine after the mission, because he thought it might go something like this. "Sorry man, mind-reading's never been my strong point. You'll have to say it."

"What the hell happened between you two in the desert?"

"Well, Squall's an attractive guy, but he's really not my type-" said Zell, attempting to make light of the situation. Irvine's expression didn't change, however,

"Selphie. You and Selphie." Irvine snapped.

Zell got to his feet and gave his friend a hard look. "If you have to ask me that, I guess we're not as good 'a friends as I thought."

Irvine's mouth tightened. "If you can't answer it, I guess we're not as good of friends as I thought."

"Guess not," snapped Zell, and for a second Zell thought his best friend might try to take a swing at him. The moment passed, however, the the cowboy turned and left without another word.

Zell sighed and sat back down on the bench and opened his book, staring blankly at the pages. As a soldier, you expected to lose your friends sooner or later, whether in the senselessness of battle or in one of those glorious stupid gestures his heroic friends were so fond of.

He just never thought he'd lose them by degrees.

…..

….

…

..

.

"Hello, bean."

Quistis peeled up the hem of her tank top and peered at the image of her somewhat convex stomach in the mirror. It was more of a belly now than the flat plane of muscles she had once cultivated as a SeeD; a hard, round bump that was just starting to slope over the edge of her waistband. She traced over it with her hand, tilting her head as she measured the difference between her old body in this strange new softer version. She wasn't sure what to call the ever-expanding mass inside her, but 'bean' seemed as good a thing as any, given its shape on the earlier ultrasounds.

As a SeeD, her body had to be streamlined, muscular, agile, and she was quickly becoming anything but. She was almost clumsy now, not used to the extra weight and bulk and often overcompensating for it, which accounted for more than one banged knee and stubbed toe.

Today, she'd met her four month marker...give or take. Her doctor had given her an approximation, but nothing was exact.

At four months, the baby book suggested that the organs associated with hearing were developed enough to transmit sound. While she ran her errands, she had picked up a pair of cushioned headphones that could stretch around her middle. She was already planning concerts of classical and light smatterings of jazz, and occasionally, to liven things up, maybe a few of her work out mixes on low volume. Right now, the baby was being treated to the Estharian Opera's version of "Adella" on very low volume.

She was beginning to feel real movement, too...not the light flutterings that had felt more like soda bubbles inside of her but real, tiny tremors that sometimes woke her up in the middle of the night with their strangeness. Pregnancy was not conducive to sleep, especially not a sleep that was as naturally light as hers. She found herself taking more and more naps during the day, sometimes in the infirmary or at her desk. She could not ever remember feeling as tired before in her life.

A bigger problem was that her little secret was becoming harder and harder to hide. Her lab coat did wonders for covering her body in a forgiving white tent, but her regular clothes were starting to become snug, and eventually, Quistis knew she was going to have to break down and purchase pants with an elastic waistband. She had never forseen a future with stretchy pants- most soldiers lived and died as lean and stringy as grizzled old roosters. It felt strange...unnatural...to be...round.

Absently, she wondered what Seifer would think of the changes in her body. She instantly derailed that train of thought with a chain of the words that came to mind: disgust, disinterest, repulsion, and quickly pulled her shirt back down before slipping into a pair of sweatpants. Flapping the elastic to give her expanding midsection some leeway, she then went into her fridge and pulled out a small carton, grabbing a spoon as she went and being careful not to dislodge the ear phones.

Weeks ago, Quistis had read that 80% of miscarriages happened before 12 weeks of pregnancy, so she had decided to celebrate each week over twelve as a kind of victory over Kadowaki's grim prediction. To celebrate the grand fourth month marker and the bean's developing ears, she had smuggled a small carton of ice cream from the cafeteria. She removed it from her mini fridge now as she crawled into bed, a spoon between her teeth. She ate a spoonful, and closed her eyes. Chocolate chunk and marshmallow with toffee pieces in a caramel swirl. Had food ever tasted so good? ...maybe the tortilla chips smothered in liquid cheese she'd had for lunch, or the five pickles she'd eaten for breakfast...she really needed to stop eating so badly.

Cerberus curled up next to her, his head on her thigh as he looked up at her with hopeful eyes.

"Sorry," she told the dog, shaking her head. "But you know chocolate isn't good for you."

The dog thumped his tail in protest, whining appealingly. She relented and picked him out a marshmallow piece, sucking the chocolate off of it before letting him lap it out of her palm.

As she ate spoonful after creamy spoonful, she thought about her friends, about Irvine and Selphie and Zell, mostly, and about the mysterious occurrence that had knit such tension between the three. She sincerely hoped it would be resolved soon, but couldn't see any way to help if they didn't wish to tell her what was going on. It was bad enough she had her own problems with Seifer- she didn't want the rest of her small 'family' torn apart. Was pregnancy turning her into a meddler? No, she decided, after a moment, she had always been a meddler.

Licking a strip of caramel from the spoon, Quistis sighed. She missed her close-knit group of friends. She missed her bed at the sea shack with the rusty mattress springs. She missed Styx and Rajin and his cooking, and she missed watching Glyph fish in the surf at low tide, screeching and stomping its feet at a missed catch. It had been a kind of family there, the kind she had so desperately wanted (if not the kind she had dreamed of specifically.)

Most of all, (and in spite of her denial), she missed..._him_. She missed the sound of his voice, his laugh; she even missed arguing with him over something as inane as washing his shaving cream down the sink.

She wished...

...but what good did wishing do? It was like fishing without a line, without the hope of any tangibility.

The practical side of her urged to see reason- she could not change Seifer anymore than she could change herself, and they were very different people. What had happened between them would have happened eventually, with or without her news. She had to believe that, because the idea that they had something that could have continued on, that could have lasted, was too painful to hold on to.

And because it caused her pain, Quistis let her current line of thought go.

She was eating and feeling for two now, after all, and she wanted the baby's world to be one of peace and well-fed serenity for as long as possible. The well-fed part wasn't a problem; so far, Quistis was pretty sure she was now eating as much as Zell during his carb-loading training periods.

She let the sound of Cerberus's snoring lull her mind into a kind of content coma as she polished off the ice cream and traced meaningless designs across her belly, wishing she had someone, anyone, there to celebrate the four month milestone with her besides a dog that was more interested in her ice cream than her current predicament.

….

….

..

..

Dinners at the Sea Shack had become a decidedly strained affair since Quistis had left.

Styx pined at door for signs of her return, moping. Seifer found himself no better, looking for any excuse to glance out the window. Rajin's reaction, however, was the worst- he was Seifer's only option for conversation and he'd been all but giving him the silent treatment, and tonight was no different. The big man hovered over the stove, stirring the hamburger in the pan in what Seifer considered to be an accusing silence.

It had been almost a month since Quistis had left, and Seifer had spent the better portion of it drunk, miserable, and more often than not, both.

She'd taken the bulk of her things, but had left certain things behind. Things that were her, were Quistis...things Seifer couldn't seem to throw out no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't remember ever being this wretched, and for him that was saying something. One night, he'd hovered, drunk, at the edge of the water, the box gripped firmly in his fist. He'd considered chucking the useless thing out into the water and watching it skip, but instead had wound up jamming the ring back into his pocket and storming back into the house. It didn't help that a week after she had left, a pair of red dragonskin boots had arrived in the mail for him, with Quistis's unmistakable penmanship on the shipping label. She must have bought them for him in Esthar. Seifer had considered dumping the boots in the trashcan, but wound up yanking them onto his feet instead.

To make matters worse, they were comfortable as hell. Fucking boots.

Seifer glared at Rajin's back and opened the newspaper with an unnecessary crack. Styx didn't move from his usual post from the door, his tail occasionally thumping hopefully against the tile when he heard a noise. Even Glyph was acting weird, which, for the Chocobo, was really saying something.

They were acting like this thing was **his** fault, damnit. He wanted to shout at them to look at the Esthar Sun Society page. That wasn't _him_ in the arms of Serabin Glyphias, for fuck's sake.  
Seifer balled his hands around the paper at the memory, tearing a large hole through the sports and culture sections respectively. He wanted to shout. He wanted to break something. He wanted to storm over to Esthar and break every bone Serabin Glyphias's perfect fucking face.

Rajin was now spooning heapfuls of his hamburger stir fry onto two plates. "You should really go and talk to her, ya know." He said, in a voice uncharacteristically quiet for him.

"And you, as usual, don't know what the fuck you're talking about," replied Seifer nastily.

Rajin slammed his plate down in front of him, making Seifer look up. "Yeah, I get that I'm not the smartest person in the world, but even I get that Quistis wouldn't ever cheat on you, ya know. And if you don't know that, you don't deserve her." His friend's dark eyes narrowed. "You've been a real ass since she's been gone, so don't give me that shit about how you don't care, or how you're better off. Quistis is the best thing to ever happen to you, ya know, and instead of getting her back you've been sulking around the house for weeks and taking out your anger on everybody but the person that really deserves it."

"And that is?" asked Seifer sarcastically.

"Look in a fucking mirror, man," snapped Rajin, picking up his plate. "C'mon, Styx." Without a backwards glance, the dog followed him outside.

Seifer scowled at the door. Traitor dog. He had been abandoned all fronts.

Seething, Seifer crumpled up the paper and threw it against the wall. He was looking for something more satisfying to throw when the phone rang. He briefly considered throwing it, too, but opened it up instead. If he destroyed another phone, Arya was going to have his head. He'd already cost the tech department more than any of the other White SeeDs combined.

"_What_?" he barked.

"Get your ass down here, Strife," Xu barked back at him, undeterred by his tone. "I want you to check out the Balamb cure site. I've got some JC's that're supposed to be cleaning it out, and I want it double checked after they leave. They'll have two SeeDs with them, but this is for a big client, and I need it done perfectly."

"Fine. I'll need to stop by and stock up on some extra fire magic," replied Seifer. "I ran out in Esthar. Have it ready at the usual drop point."

"Of course, your highness." drawled Xu. "Anything else?"

Seifer was tempted to tell her what else he would like for her to do with the phone receiver, the cord, the charger, and the electrical socket to which the entire apparatus was attached, but he hung up on her instead, shoving back from the table and shrugging into his coat. He was grabbing his sword from the couch when his phone rang again.

Xu, although her voice now sounded tense. "Change of plans. Enc-none and meet me in my office. We have a situation."

Great. Just what he needed now. Another _situation_.  
...

…...

…..

…

..

.

Which of the following is **TRUE** regarding a lesion of the right vestibular nuclei?

a) The left PPRF is more active than the right PPRF

b) The fast phase of nystagmus is to the right

c) Stumbling to the left

d) The left lateral bestibulospinal tract is more active than the right

e) Slow phase of nystagmus to the left

Quistis narrowed her eyes. The lateral vestibulospinal tract was an ipsilateral projection that ran the whole spinal cord, so only the left vestibulospinal tract would actually be functional where a lesion was concerned. She circled 'd', and went to check the answer key.

The phone was on its tenth ring before Quistis decided to answer it. "Hello?" she yawned, wiping her sleeve across her face. She'd fallen asleep ten minutes ago, and was still trying to rub out the button marks she'd imprinted on her face from sleeping on her sleeve.

"Hey, it's Xu. What are you up to?"

"Nothing," she replied, absently patting Cerberus's head as he inched towards her for attention.

"Good! Then you can babysit a bunch of rookies that I've got clearing the Draw Point north of Balamb. Apparently there's an freak infestation of some new breed of abyss worm that likes dirt instead of sand. Shinra lost a couple of scientists, so they want it taken care of. Truck's leaving in about twenty minutes, should take a couple of hours, tops. I was going to make Kadowaki go, but she's still no good on her leg and our latest support casters have shit for stamina. Bring your med-kit and your whip along, you can take care of any mag-burns or paper cuts those idiots manage to inflict upon themselves, but I don't anticipate injuries. It'll count towards your field hours."

Quistis had known Xu long enough to recognize each of her many mercurial moods, and she recognized the call as Xu's way to 'make nice' over their little spat. Then again, Xu's improved mood might have more to do with the fact that Shinra had mysteriously decided to extend their contract to site use. Most likely it was both. Xu was nothing if not practical, and she was as interoperable and transparent with her emotions as her motives.

And as much as Quistis wanted to remain angry, the truth was that she missed her friend.

"Fine." Quistis replied dully, rolling onto her side, removing her feet from under Cerberus's belly in the process. She had already exceeded her field hour requirement by a full day's worth, but she was tired of sitting in the room and staring at the same question for five minutes at a time. Besides, she'd been able to handle abyss worms since her second year, and they presented the same small amount of danger with or without her magic. In Quistis's mind, tackling an abyss worm while pregnant was the equivalent of standing in front of a microwave while she heated up a cup of tea.

"Good! Knew I could count on you. They'll be ready to go in about fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes would give her enough time to clean up the bags under her eyes and freshen up. Quistis closed her notes, patted Cerberus on the head, and set about trying to find her SeeD jacket and her medical id card. Now that Xu was headmistress, SeeD clothing had become a lot more practical. JC's still wore the same uniforms, but SeeD uniforms were dark, streamlined garments which, to Quistis's relief, did not involve ironing.

Cerberus's tail thumped against the mattress hopefully as she took her card key. Quistis smiled and shook her head, ruffling his ears.

"Not this time, boy. Keep the bed warm for me. I'll be back soon."

…..

….

Quistis arrived at the parking garage ten minutes later, tugging on a pair of dragonskin gloves and pulling her hair into a ponytail. Her orange battle gear a thing of the past, she now wore a plain leather breastplate under a dark SeeD windbreaker and standard-issue pants. One couldn't traipse around in a skirt forever, after all.

...especially while four months pregnant.

"Hey Instructor!"

Despite the fact that it had been years since she'd held the title, Quistis still turned at the voice to see a group of people leaning against a g-mo, waving at her. She instantly recognized two SeeDs from her old classes- Mica and Blake. Blake had the same bright red hair in disarray around his eyes, and Mica gave her a small, warm smile, her dark hair pulled back in a braid and slung over one shoulder. The three JC's next to them looked nervous- one of the young men was bouncing on his heels, reminding her irresistibly of Zell.

"I'm not your Instructor anymore, Blake," she said, returning their eager smiles. Blake was as cocky and earneset as Mica was calculated and reserved; despite their differences, they had been among her favorite students, and she looked forward to seeing them in the field now that their skill sets were fully developed.

"Well, yeah, but you know what they say, old habits die hard." Bilow gestured. "This's Brie, Kale, and Tekk, the JC's we'll be breaking in." Each of the cadets saluted in turn. The one called Tekk winked at her...an Irvine in the making. She smiled at him.

"It's an honor to be escorted by one of the Liberi Fatali, ma'am," stammered the one identified as Kale, swallowing hard. His eyes were a bright, baby blue- young eyes, thought Quistis, not hardened and sharp like Blake and Mica's.

She wondered, absently, if her gaze had ever been as clear. Doubtful.

"Just Quistis will be fine, Kale." she said, adjusting the clasp on her whips.

When she had lost her casting ability, Quistis had compensated for the loss in damage output by taking on a second weapon. She had always relied more on her magic than her ability to do physical damage, but now, she'd have to double that damage if she wanted to remain in the field.

If training with one whip had been difficult, training with two was even more so, the beginning of which reminded Quistis of a very frantic game of double-dutch jump rope. Misjudging a swipe and tangling the links often resulted in a dangerous backlash that had more than once nearly flayed her face. Still, having first mastered the rhythm of one whip down had aiding in the addition of a second, and in less than a year, Quistis had become more than proficient with the new weapon, which was a perfect copy of Save the Queen, down to the shar spikes and the marlboro tentacles. She was now the first and only dual-whip user Garden had ever harbored, though it was more out of necessity than ambition. If Quistis could have traded in her second whip in exchange for her casting ability, she would not have hesitated to do so.

Aside from her whips, Quistis was traveling light. In a small backback strapped diagonally across her chest, she carried several hi-potions, a few Esunas, and a small but complete medical kit. The gear was quickly becoming standard for each mission, regardless of class. In the event that support magic was unavailable or ill-advised, Xu wanted each SeeD at least mildly competent in triage and field stabilization. One of Quistis's jobs, aside from treating any minor injuries in the field, was to train each cadet in the use of basic first aid.

"Shall we go?"

The drive to the coast would take about an hour, though, with the way Blake drove, it might only take them forty-five minutes. Quistis gripped one of the door handles and resisted the urge to rest her hand over her belly with each of the organ-jostling bumps of the large vehicle. _Hang on, bean_, she thought.

Blake's brown eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. "Feeling all right, Instructor?"

"Fine," she replied. "Now, who can tell me the proper procedure for treatment of a third degree burn without benefit of support magic?"

Blake groaned. Quistis choked back a laugh when Brie and Kale released their grip of the truck support handles to raise their hands, both of them smacking their heads against the roof as the truck careened over another rock.

The rest of the trip passed uneventfully, the small group happily chatting amongst themselves. Quistis, caught up in their youthful spirit, even told a few stories of her own. At least, the truck came to a stop in a grassy area with a small red fencepost stuck in the side, marking their entry point.

Once they stopped the truck, Quistis was glad to see that Blake's carefree attitude quickly sharpened into a grim attention. He motioned for the group to stay at the vehicle as he got out, shouldering his gun and walking outside for a few minutes while taking stock of the area. Opening the door, he stuck his head back in. "This is the checkpoint Headmistress Xu wanted us to start at. We'll start here then move west towards the Fira site. Dispatch all hostiles, burn corpses down to bone to prevent scavengers moving in. We've had reports of up to five worms but there may be more. Questions?"

The JC's shook their head.

Mica nodded. "Brie and Kale, you'll be my unit. We're taking cover point behind Blake, Tekk, and Instructor Trepe. Move out." She motioned to Kale, who nodded and began walking. Quistis waited for Tekk to follow, but he motioned her ahead. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she walked sandwiched between the two soldiers. Had Xu told them that she needed a babysitter? She had been doing missions like these since she was fourteen. She could do this one alone, for Hyne's sake.

Quistis removed her whips from her belt as she waded into the brush, the tall blades of grass tickling her arms. Kale's broad back blocked her view of the path ahead, and the smell of dirt and shore pine was pungent in her nose. She remembered this old feeling, this sharpness of sense that rose up in her blood and her brain on missions- it had saved her life more than once. Though her body was slightly sluggish now, rounded where it had been lean and lithe, she still retained her old instincts, and they were as sharp as ever.

Strange, to have a baby inside her and a whip coiled in each hand.

Still, Quistis supposed, checking to make sure Tekk was keeping up behind them, the two qualities were not incongruous in the female gender. Lionesses with swollen bellies stalked the southern grasses, their footfalls slower but their teeth just as sharp. Why should humans be any different?

Blake stopped, suddenly, holding up his hand for them to do the same. Quistis motioned for Tekk to watch their backs and walked up to Blake's side to see the reason for the delay. Coiled on the ground was an abyss worm; deep scorch marks scarred its belly and its side was open and bloody and the intestines were partially spilled. Blake knelt down, dipping his finger into the wound.

"Still warm," he said quietly, straightening and rubbing his fingers together. "Whatever killed it is most likely still in the area."

"The Shinra scientists-" began Quistis.

"Were ordered to evacuate yesterday, in anticipation of our mission," replied Blake grimly. "There shouldn't be anyone here." The communicator at his belt beeped, and he removed it to answer it.

"Mica to Kale," the voice came in, crackly. "We...have a problem." Having had her as a student for over two years, Quistis recognized the guarded tone in the young woman's voice.

"Yeah?" said the young man, looking around. "There's something strange here too. What's the trouble over there?"

Quistis got her right whip as high as her shoulder before she felt a barrel pressed hard between her shoulder blades.

"Don't. Move."

…

..

.

It was official. Seifer was never going to get used to having Diablos scrambling around in his brainstem, and he was never going to get used to the ghostly, off-feeling of Enc-None, either. Unfortunately, when the bulk of your work was reconnaissance and your success largely dependent on not being seen, Diablos was a necessary evil. Still, there was just something creepy about walking down halls and fields without anyone taking any notice of you, passing like a ghost with a dizzy, kind of nervous hum around you.

Quistis would probably say it was because he liked being the center of attention.

By the time he got to the Headmistress's office, he was more sick of being unable to have a thought in his head that didn't involve his ex-girlfriend/ex-instructor than anything regarding guardian forces.

Xu held up her hand as he slipped inside, shedding the cloak. "Shut up for a second." Hitting a button, she spoke into the intercom.

"Kadowaki to the Headmistress' office, please."

"Plans have changed," Xu said, switching off the intercom and turning back to Seifer. "The site's been compromised. You've got permission to kill if necessary, but ideally, I want them all brought in for questioning, separate rooms-"

The doctor rushed in, looking harried. "I've left a Cure diffusion set-up hanging, Headmistress. What is it?"

"You're going to need to prepare for incoming injuries," replied Xu. "Mica just radioed in. The cure site we were having de-bugged today is under attack, they think by the same terrorists that have been defacing the other points. Q's is on site, but-"

Kadowaki paled. "Quistis is...you have her on _active_ _mission status_ in her condition?"

Xu frowned at the doctor. "What do you mean, 'in her condition? What's wrong with her?'"

Seifer was also wearing a similarly suspicious expression.

Kadowaki shook her head from side to side, looking pale. "She didn't tell you..._either_ of you?"

Seifer was looking at both women suspiciously. "Tell us _what, _exactly?"

Kadowaki drew a hand over her face. "Oh, Hyne..."

"It's not..." began Xu, her expression faltering. "She's not sick, is she?"

"Will somebody spit _something_ out, for fuck's sake?" snapped Seifer.

Kadowaki dropped her hand from her face. "Quistis is pregnant," said Kadowaki, without preamble. Patient confidentiality be damned. If Quistis was too foolish to go while on inactive status, then….. "She is about four months along, give or take."

Xu paled. Seifer looked as if he had been struck by lightning.

The doctor sighed. "She came into my office two months ago, saying the tests she'd taken at home could not possibly be correct. I tested her myself, and when the results returned positive...I recommended an early-term abortion due to her…condition. She refused."

_Seifer..._

_Serabin was just trying to comfort me…  
_

_I've been __**trying**__ to tell you…  
_

"This whole time, she's been keeping it to herself?" asked Xu, her voice rising.

_The phone call...Shinra...it all made sense, now...shit._

Seifer stood as still as a statue, blinking stupidly at the two women in front of him.

Xu's phone began ringing again, breaking the stunned silence. "What?" she barked into the receiver, but then quickly swiveled her chair around and flipped a button on the communication system.

"-ignored our warnings. Then let this be the first of many statements. Unless you withdraw all equipment and personnel, khhhhhttttt...happen on every occupied site the world over. Blood has been regrettably spilled...continue to flow so long as the greed of Shinra Corporation supersedes its sense...be a lesson to all that the friend of our enemy must be our enemy. Khhhhhtttt...speak now."

Seifer's heart jolted in his chest as he heard the familiar voice crackle onto the com system.

"This is Quistis Trepe, Instructor number 15 and field medic on mission to purge Fira site of hostiles. We have two injured soldiers here...do not send help...perimeter for extraction...explosive charges around the extractor, the leader-"

The sound of a scuffle ensued and someone (not Quistis, please, thought Seifer) let out a muffled cry.

"Shut them up." someone snarled. "...two hours, you may come...collect the remains...come sooner...blow this area sky high. In lining your pockets you have filled coffins...much...soldiers worth to you? And Shinra, unless our...es...are met...withdrawal from all sites..."

With that, the radio communication fell silent.

"Instructor 15? That's not her number." said Kadowaki.

"No, it's the number of enemies in the area." said Xu. "The interference, though...something's blocking the signal."

"There's a cave just east of the Fira site." said Seifer. "They could be broadcasting from there."

"They're not bargaining." said Xu grimly. "If they mean for us to come in two hours, they probably intend to dispatch the hostages right away and blow it in under an hour."

"This's Headmistress Chang. I want a full SeeD squad deployed to the Balamb draw point A-5, and I want them there now. Who've we got on active status today? Tilmitt? Fine, send Tilmitt. Tell them to prepare for heavy combat. Make sure Tilmitt's junctioned, I want it wiped clean. Bahamut? Fine. Tell her White SeeD's on scene."

Damnit. Shinra at her back, and now these crazy bastards on her flank-

-and now her best friend in the middle.

Xu slammed down the phone and met Seifer's gaze.

"Wipe them out." she snarled.

….

…

..


End file.
